Periphery
by j.jiang
Summary: What started as a substitute, brought forth by seeds of a King's impatience and doubt, turned into something more problematic once contracts were involved. And she's not leaving until she gets her share of the treasure. [KiliOC]
1. Beginnings

**Author's note: Hello everyone. This is my first venturing into this particular fandom, but after reading until my eyes burned, I decided to join in for a bit. Think of me as the shy new student standing nervously by the sandbox. I have no access to the book so I will be basing this is in the movie-verse, but I appreciate any and all comments and critiques. If anyone would like to help me along in this (point out my blunders), it would also be greatly appreciated. **

**Fellow note: I will limit author's notes in the future. Promise. :]**

**Disclaimer: I am a poor teacher living in rural China. I don't even own my TV, let alone The Hobbit. **

Twigs snapped energetically under his thunderous boots, but he paid little attention, his eyes instead trained on the surroundings. While the thick trees and dense underbrush certainly certified wilderness, his instincts felt little need for worry. Nonetheless, his hands moved purposefully at his sides, never more than a second's distance from the hammer on his back. Taking a pause, he studied the muddy ground. Another footprint.

Good, he breathed out some of his annoyance through his nose. Its fresh imprint in the ground meant he wasn't far off. He pressed forward through the tangled branches of the bush and paused. To his left, he heard the hiccup of a rope snapping and frantic thumping on the ground like a terrified heartbeat. He silently followed the sound. While feeling confident his search was nearing an end, he wouldn't risk an overconfident mistake.

As he walked past a large oak, the crouched figure slid into view. He tread carefully and circled to the figure's side. He could see the figure had a grasp on a large rabbit's hind leg, the remnants of a snare evident on the ground, and a simple, slick knife in the other. He waited silently as the figure finished it's murmuring and made a quick slash through the rabbit's throat. The fur matted into an inky darkness as the animal twitched. Blood smeared the figure's tanned hand as it moved to creak the animal's head back, widening the wound like cracking open a door.

He figured now was as good a time as any and cleared his throat. "I hope you're not thinking of skinning that thing here." The figure turned its head to him, an easy smile tilting the ends of her lips.

"You don't think the mud would add a nice flavor?" He didn't reply but a grunt, and she stood. "What can I do for you, Master Dwalin?"

She scooped down to grab the back legs of her catch. "Thorin requires your presence." Her fingers paused from their work picking dirt out of the rabbit's fur, and she peeked up at him, blatant incredulity splattered on her face. "Immediately." She didn't argue, only tied the listless hind legs of her catch and sheathed her knife.

"I am assuming you have a steed," she started back through the brush in the direction he had come from.

"Left him at the far path by the creek," he replied curtly. She could almost sense his unspoken resentment for trekking in to find her.

"I must retrieve my own, and it is, regrettably, at a different location." She did not offer this location and Dwalin did not care to ask. Just as he started to agitate under the idea of waiting for her, she continued, "Why don't you ride ahead and inform Thorin I will arrive? It won't be but more than ten minutes after you." He nodded, placated by this suggestion, and they separated as she turned east and disappeared into the brush.

The forest hummed and chirped with early spring melodies. While Dwalin would never consider the world to be safe, regardless of the lull from peaceful scenery, he knew that the forests the woman frequently trapped in rarely crossed with orcs or other nefarious creatures. While skilled with a knife, her job rarely required use of strategy or skill that would make her an opponent to even a lone orc.

Nonetheless, her game was often hearty and her pelts finely cut. And so she had ended up familiar to the dwarves of the Blue Mountain. Initially, she had ventured in to find sales, her previous posts exhausted of cash for her goods. While the dwarves were hardly giving her a warm, family welcome, they appreciated the furs to line their cloaks, and the meat met with great satisfaction. And so she transitioned from a woman, a stranger to be stared at, to nothing more than a common face. In some ways, seeing her carrying her wares to different merchants reminded him of Dale, when merchants from every road would peddle their goods. He stepped over a fallen tree and turned west. He walked through over-hanging brush to the creak gurgling like a happy dwarf babe. His horse stood near the tree trunk to which his reigns tethered him, and Dwalin moved forward gruffly. Thoughts of Dale always brought forth the festering rage of Smaug and his destruction. His lips in a grim, thin line, he mounted his horse. His mind only took solace in the knowledge of Thorin's pending embarkment to best the cursed monster and reclaim their home. The days to their departure seemed to pass with increased fervor and he could almost taste the excitement radiating from Fili and Kili when they had convinced their uncle to let them join.

Dwalin mulled as he stirred his horse into a hearty canter. As for why, only days away from their final hurdle to begin, Thorin had decided to call upon the trapper, he hadn't the faintest idea.

* * *

Fili walked the halls of his Blue Mountain home proudly. Happily. And most definitely with a bounce of excitement. Torches lined the stone walls as warm, flickering sentinels. While it had not the wealth or splendor of Erebor—or so he was told—it was the home he knew and adored. That didn't temper his thrill when his uncle has finally given approval for them to join his quest to reclaim Erebor.

He recounted his uncle's stubborn mantra that they were too young and too important to join—but mostly that they were too young, too green.

Only after their persistence groveling, and no small part of sulking, did they convince their uncle that they were capable young dwarves. A frequent point of theirs turned this accusation of youth on their uncle, saying their keen eyes would supplement what older members of the quest may be lacking. Of course they weren't thinking of old Balin or Oin's deafness what they argued this. Never.

Well, maybe a bit. A large bit.

He stopped as he reached the mouth of the hall and faced the open air whistling through the mountains.

"Fili," the blond tilted his head to see his uncle stand beside him. His stern blue eyes surveyed the expanse of scenery before them.

"Uncle," Fili replied with a nod of his head. His mouth itched for barely a second before he rushed out the tired question, "Has Gandalf come yet?" Fili was thoroughly eager to have a wizard joining their quest. His only gripe remained at the wizard's lack of consideration for their time. While they had taken him as a member of their company, they were forced to wait while he searched for their final party member. Fili wished, on nights he lay in his bed with anticipation prickling his veins, his uncle had simply picked the final member himself. At least then they could start.

Thorin betrayed no sign of annoyance except for the lingering, hooded look he shot at his nephew. Every day, the same question. He let out a breath much like a sigh. "No." His nephew let out a much more exasperated sigh.

"Does he not know the importance of time?" Thorin's eyes hardened on the distance, but he kept silent.

"I assure you, Master Fili," a voice broke behind them like a gentle and dangerous waterfall. "I most certainly do." They turned to see the grey wizard standing in the hall, leaning on his staff as if tired from a long walk. Or perhaps exasperation. "And if you understood its importance, you would not waste it wishing for the future. For everything comes precisely when meant to." He stepped forward and turned his eyes to the king, who remained silent and unyielding under his gaze. "I have found him."

Thorin nodded curtly. "Better we move elsewhere to speak of this." Gandalf agreed and the three of them turned back into the halls of the mountain. Thorin lead the way to his study, and they settled into either chairs or places around the room.

"Where is he?" Thorin cut straight as he stood behind his desk. The wizard pulled out his pipe and pressed his fingers together as a small flame ignited.

"A hobbit in the Shire." Thorin couldn't hide the indignant frustration while Fili sputtered.

"A hobbit?" His voice growled dangerously low. "You think a hobbit is fit to travel on such a quest as ours?"

"I will not play to your pride nor your prejudices right now, Thorin Oakenshield," replied Gandalf, drawing himself to his full height. "You have yet to even meet the lad and already you speak as if you know him." He gave the king no space to intrude. "I have searched for your final member, and you will find him in the Shire. Inform your men to travel hence. They will find his home by the mark I leave on the door." Gandalkf moved towards the door, and Thorin voiced his last question gruffly.

"The Shire is no small place to search for a small person." Gandalf turned to him.

"It is easy enough to find," he answered before the door closed behind him.

Barely two seconds passed before someone rapped sharply on the door.

"Enter," Thorin barked, clearly still disgruntled by the wizard's brusque appearance. Dwalin stepped in quietly.

"Did you find her?" Thorin asked, moving papers from his desk as if in search of something. Fili's brow knit in confusion as he looked over to Dwalin. Her?

"Yes. She is on her way." Fili turned his to confusion to his uncle. Obviously Dwalin would not feel any need to inform the youth of this female he'd been sent to find. "If I may ask," Dwalin paused. "Why did you send for her?"

A long pause stretched in the air like a quivering viol string. Thorin studied his comrade, his trusted friend, before returning to his desk.

"Gandalf has returned," he stated. Dwalin nodded silently. "He has found our burglar. We're to ride to the Shire. Gandalf will mark the door." His sentences came out curtly and without room for question. Dwalin asked none but one.

"Should we leave immediately?"

Thorin shook his head. His hands stilled as they closed around the thin leather envelope. Inside, he knew, rested the map of Erebor. their greatest piece and greatest puzzle. "No. I will head to the Iron Hills. Now that I have our final members, I will make known our quest to our kin. If they join, then we will have one more cause for celebration when we meet at the burglar's home." He looked up to Dwalin and Fili as he placed the envelope deep inside his coat. Dwalin appeared determined and satisfied, while Fili's face was scrunched by clear confusion and the barely suppressed desire to pester his uncle.

"Dwalin, inform the others to prepare. Those that answer the call should ride out in three days time for the Shire," said the king as he pulled his cloak over his shoulders and fastened it. Again, a nod.

Just as Fili thought his uncle about to leave, a quick, singular knock jerked three pairs of eyes to the door.

"Enter," Thorin commanded. Again, the door opened, only this time a woman walked in. Her steps quiet, quick and quaint, Fili could immediately recognize the stature of a human woman under her cloak. Her brown hood pulled back revealed a face he had seen around the villages and caverns of the Blue Mountains. He'd never spoken to her, but knew he wore a number of her pelts and their kitchen staff regularly bought game. Her skin was tanned while her unkempt hair was a high-lighted brown, both indicative of her time spent outside.

Immediately, she bowed to Thorin. Fili felt mild appreciation for her quiet respect as she waited for the king to speak. Noting the furrow of her eyebrows, it seemed she was as perplexed as himself and Dwalin as to her appearance.

"What is your lineage?" Thorin didn't bother with formalities towards the woman.

"Mostly human," she replied calmly. "Perhaps some dwarf considering my family's close proximity to dwarf kingdoms and my lacking stature." Fili felt his lips twitching up slightly at her own jibe. She may stand only a few centimeters taller than himself and certainly lacked the physic to compensate for her height. However, the idea of dwarf blood mingling in human veins made his stomach clench uncomfortably. Still, even she said it was only a possibility, not that she had any proof.

"Are you skilled with anything besides your trade knives?" Thorin gave no indication of his opinion but his gaze remained heavy upon her all the same.

"A bow and arrow," she replied. "Depends on what kind of skill you are looking for." She attempted a smile at the light joke but it faltered and fell at the lack of reciprocated amusement. She let out a shaky breath and continued in a more serious manner. "I am good with a bow and arrow—comes with hunting—but knives are my favourite. My uncle and cousin taught me to fight with them while my father taught me to hunt."

"What can you do?" She let her face display a second of honest alarm at his brusque question before shoving it aside.

"Track, skin. Living in the wild. Hiding. Many of the things that come with being a trapper." She shrugged subtly.

"And the skills you've acquired as a smuggler and thief?" Thorin shot back shortly. Three pairs of eyes widened.

"I-I-I don't—"

"Do not waste time, human," Thorin cut. "I have no need for your defense, and I am not concerned with your activites so long as they do not harm my kingdom or kin. As of yet, they have not so speak quickly, what skills have you?"

She sighed through her teeth. "Minimal workings of languages, knowledge of hidden paths and hide-outs. Smuggling routes. Access to medicines and goods otherwise hard to obtain." Or immoral, she added silently.

"The skill to pass silently." Though she thought the phrasing spoke of a question, it seemed none existed in his tone. She remained silent for a second as she thought of whether to dare a response.

Fili, for all his effort, couldn't help but strain and finally crack as he felt something like realization at his uncle's last sentence.

"Uncle, you're not thinking of joining her to the company?" Fili burst out. Talk of silence and stealth, of skills and weaponry made it sound as if his father searched for a thief. A burglar. But had they not just heard from Gandalf that a burglar awaited them in the Shire? Thorin silenced him with a steely gaze. Dwalin shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.

"Tonight, a wizard will leave rom our settlement in the Blue Mountains. You are to track him without being sighted. When he rejoins our company in the Shire, I expect your report of his travels. This report must also be delivered without recognition of anyone but myself, and you are not to enter the residence until I have read its entirety." Noting the look of bewilderment on her face, he let out a sharp jibe, "use your smuggler skills for this, should you truly have any." This seemed to shake her reverie, and she physically tossed her head.

"Why should I do this? Do I get paid?" Fili stiffened at the rudeness in her quick words. Still, he harbored vein of disbelief, a bubbling, churning soup of confusion.

Thorin chose to return her question with one of his own. "Are you to say that right now, there are no incriminating items on your horse?"

Her lips pressed to a thin line before she replied lowly. "That would be little business of yours."

"Yet your horse stands on our lands right now, does it not? And as ruler, I would have right to search the contents," Thorin said simply. After a brief, heavy pause, purely for his benefit of letting her squirm while her mind reached for solutions, he added, "as it were, I have no intention of searching them." Another pause. "As long as you complete the task I have given you." Her shoulders drew back and stiffened.

"And if I take this task only to disappear?" Her eyes peered up at him through her bangs, her head dipped forward to give the full impression of her dissatisfaction.

"That is why all the goods upon the horse have been removed to safety within these halls." Fili could have sworn he heard something like a growl grating the back of her throat as it slid down into her stomach, swallowed. "Complete the task and they will be returned to you without further issue and you may return to whatever manner of life you lead. Disappear and they will spill your secrets. I doubt those you steal from would give you long to hide." He knew he had her pinned, as did everyone else in the room—including the woman. She lifted her chin and met him squarely, a silent hiss passing between her teeth as she tried to diffuse the tension and rage twisting her chest.

"Fine."

"Fili," Thorin called his nephew forward. "Get her a contract. Find her a room to wait for the wizard's departure and bring the contract to me once it is completed." His eyes tacked on the silent message: tell no one.

The woman kept her huff sealed behind her lips. A room to wait? It was barely mid-day and he had spoken of leaving at night. Was she to wait for hours in a closet for this wizard to leave? Yet she knew Thorin would not yield—especially given his apparent knowledge of her less-than-honorable second income. She wished he hadn't called her a thief, though. It's not like she stole, really. More…picked up things people left around. Glancing at the one he had called to escort her, she hoped he played some mercy in wherever he stuck her. As the dwarf stepped towards her and the door, she remembered a last minute courtesy and bowed to Thorin, albeit stiffly and with a glimmer of a glare.

The door shut behind the two with a click and Dwalin turned to Thorin. The King Under the Mountain was stepping his way around his desk.

"What exactly is all of that about?" Dwalin dared as Thorin neared the door. Dwalin followed the lead and headed to leave the room.

"A back-up plan," Thorin replied before he disappeared down the hall.


	2. Kindling

Disclaimer: I own my coat, and I am grateful for that. I do not, however, own any part of Tolkein's work.

* * *

Turned out, Fili had been more than gentlemanly and, while perhaps disturbed by the revelation in her trades, had felt compassionately to a point. Their first stop had been to obtain a contract. Without an explanation, a stout dwarf had handed the contract to the woman, who had signed it without a word and handed it to Fili. His perplexed look didn't last long as he pushed it aside. Perhaps humans didn't care to read contracts the way dwarves did, he had thought. Or perhaps she had trusted the old, bearded dwarf to write a fair deal. She had smiled pleasantly enough at him when they had arrived.

At that point, he had led her towards the stables. He had caught her peeking in at her horse only to see that, true to Thorin's word, all her packs and goods had disappeared from its back.

"Since the wizard must pass this way to leave," he had explained, "I thought the tack room might suffice. At the very least, you would hear him leaving." He had offered her something of a smile, and she had nodded in response with a small smile of her own.

And so she was sitting in the tack room, idling her time by polishing bridles and counting pieces of straw as they scattered the floor. Without any windows, she could only guess at the time. 'Ten thousand years,' she guessed silently, a grin ghosting her face. 'The entire world is dead, and I'm in a tack room, wiping horse saliva off bridles while I wait for someone who will never come.'

She moved from bridles to saddles to airing out blankets. At last she ended up crouched near the ground, one arm resting on her knees while the other lethargically moved pieces of straw across the floor. A cat. A person. Two people and a cat. The cat eating the person. The other person seeking revenge. A house falling on them. She pieced the strands together and started to build off the ground when she heard a noise passing the door.

"I assure you, Master Kili, I am completely capable of traveling on my own," a rumbling voice spoke impatiently just outside the door. Still crouching, the woman awkwardly scooted towards the door, straining her ear and efforts to stay quiet.

"Where are you going to, Gandalf?" a younger voice replied. It brimmed with curiosity more than anything else. "We do not set to the Shire tonight."

"And, fortunately, Master Kili, the schedules of wizards and dwarves are not always the same," the older voice replied. Wizard. The woman stood up abruptly. Her knees cracked in protest but she teetered forward to hear more. 'This must be the wizard to follow,' she thought. After all, how many of them existed? Certainly fewer in the Blue Mountains than all of Middle Earth.

She knew she couldn't immediately leave, not if she wanted to go unnoticed by a wizard.

The next words came out softer, as if the wizard felt compassion for his companion. "I shall see you soon in the Shire, Master Kili." She heard one pair of footsteps retreating before the younger voice called out. "Let me get you extra supplies at the least!" Before she could react, the door swung open, the corner of its wooden force nailing her on the left of her forehead. She stumbled back, cursing expletives in a river while both hands gingerly held to her throbbing forehead.

"Wha-?" The young voice stopped, and she squinted up at him from her hunched position. "Who are you?" She uttered another curse. Obviously, she needed to keep him quiet before the wizard wondered about the ruckus. It would be hard to track and avoid a person who was alerted to the presence of a strange human out of place in a dwarf's settlement. Trying to ignore the bruise leaking under her skin, she rushed forward with an excuse.

"Don't be alarmed, please. I only came in to return some tack I had borrowed at my last travel." This seemed to calm him as he studied her carefully. The woman was more fixated on the silence around them. No footsteps from a wizard coming to investigate. He must not be overly concerned about last words, she thought before turning her attention more closely to the dwarf. Unlike others, his beard barely reached past stubble, and his forehead did not yet have the creases of crushing stress and exhausting anger.

He seemed surprised but placated by the response, though not necessarily at complete ease. She snuck a foot back to put her straw house to shambles just in case he should survey the room.

"What's your name? You look familiar though you are clearly not a dwarf," spoke the dwarf carefully. She attempted an easy smile but worried it didn't quite convince him. Her mind worked furiously: tell the truth or lie?

"I am Eda." Before she could come to a decision, her name spilled out. 'I suppose the truth can't hurt,' she thought. "I often travel in the Blue Mountains to sell my wares." With a small smile, she pointed to the fur trim of his cloak. "For possible uses such as that." He glanced at it before back at her and his eyes sparked.

"You are the trapper with such excellent venison!" He exclaimed with happiness as if he had some of it freshly resting in his stomach. She smiled in spite of the desire to appear modest and nodded. "Did you come today to sell more?"

At this point, she felt the honesty best to end. "Simply returning some tack and finding some coin before setting on my way."

"And what direction will you travel next, if I may ask?" He kept the genial smile in place.

"Most commonly whatever keeps the wind at my back," she replied lightly. A shuffle outside the door and her heart skipped. Hastily, she tacked on a lie, "but I have business in the north. And I would like to visit my family now that the weathers are better." As the clip-clop of hooves faded, she felt her heartbeat steady. 'Even if it wasn't the wizard,' she thought, 'perhaps better safe to state an opposite direction.'

"Who travels with you?" She thought of the overheard conversation with the wizard and wondered if he was always this curious about others' travels.

"I left my last traveling companions in another town. I travel alone from here until the next time I meet others on the road." She enjoyed the treats of traveling with others—and the protection of added arms—but found it easier to meet and part whenever the paths so called. For his polite part, the young dwarf attempted to conceal his uncertainty. Rather than start on an issue of her own safety or female capacities, she returned his earlier question to him:

"And what's your name?" As she spoke, she took a step towards the door, giving silent indication of her intention to leave soon. He stepped to the side and let her pass.

"Kili." He bowed. "At your service."

"I shall try to save some deer for the next time I see you, Master Kili." She grinned, bowing and hurrying down the stalls to her horse.

"I think we've given him enough of a head-start, don't you think?" She softly laid a hand on her horse's pale nose while swinging the reins over his chestnut head. She grinned as he breathed in and out on her palm before breaking away and nipping at her clothes in search of an apple or treat. She pushed his head away. "Later." He followed at a lazy pace behind her, but they reached the open air and wooden path quickly enough. In the fading light, she read two horse tracks, a lightly-loaded wagon and four pony trails in the mud. Assuming he wouldn't ride a pony, she picked the freshest of tracks with her eyes. Moving to her horse's side, she easily swung into her saddle and set off.

* * *

'Tracking a wizard could be harder,' she thought as she morosely trekked through mud, 'but it could also be considerably easier.' By the time she'd reached the first town, she knew the voice nagging her since she'd stepped out of Thorin's sight was right: the horse couldn't come. And so she'd left him at the house of a familiar friend in town, a frequent customer and former travel companion. He hadn't been thrilled at the sudden addition to his barn, but he also hadn't denied he could use the horse.

The next few days consisted of following the wizard's trail from the trees. Not a drop of elven blood ran in her veins—that she knew of—but growing up with a family of trappers, blacksmiths and lumber workers in the north forests lent her to a childhood familiar with climbing trees. Even the scrapes of bark on her palms felt like welcome nostalgia. Such combined with the wizard, and, had it not been for the lack of her horse, she would have quite enjoyed the task. Even from afar, she could hear the trickles of his humming and every once in a while she would catch a spark somewhere in between the trees that sparkled like fireworks. He obviously did not feel any particular fear for his person. His constant pipe smoking also made it easier to track him. On day she discovered a clump of ashes on a tree stump. Next to it stood a shivering plant. He'd obviously pried leaves for his next round immediately after dumping the ashes.

At night, she alternated between tree branches and the half-hug of a hallowed tree-trunk or large roots. On a morning following one such night huddled in a tree, she woke at first dawn and set out to cracking her bones and setting her joints back in place. The fur lining her cloak kept her insulated against the chilled air, but it hardly substituted for a bed. She stood only to be greeted by a puff of smoke in the form of a bird diving into her face. It splashed across her nose, filling her throat with a short coughing fit.

"Now if I were tracking someone," she froze at the voice rumbling from the other side of her tree, "I would think such noise unwise."

"How did you discover me?" She tried to keep from sounding put out as she asked. It was harder to contrain her frustration when her sleepy mind realized she should have lied. Or at least tried. Her pride wounded and her anxiety shrilling at Thorin's threat should she fail, she crossed her arms in a last-minute defensive stance. For his part, the man chuckled. 'Suppose the pout wasn't a secret,' she thought as he took a deep inhale on his pipe.

"My dear, I had no idea you were following me," he paused with a distinct twinkle in his eye, "until the wind carried your snoring and sleep-chatter my way last night." Her head jerked back and her eyes widened. 'Well, that would do it, I suppose,' she tried to shrug it off. Snoring and the occasional mutterings didn't bother her too much—though they were a more embarrassing of downfalls. More or less, her mind teetered dangerously in anticipation of the wizard's next move.

She certainly hadn't expected the one he gave her.

"If you are feeling so inclined, you are welcome to join me in a small breakfast." He pointed with his staff down the path. He winked at her, "perhaps some fireworks?" She felt her face break into a smile. It grew to a light chuckle and she nodded, accepting his offer and following him down the path.

They neared his camp when she felt a pause.

"Wait, this is not the same camp you had last night." She distinctly remembered the wizard passing a fallen oak to take shelter in its shadow. The oak was not for another twenty meters, and she had doubled back to what she had considered a safe distance for rest.

"Yes, well, that particular camp proved less than desirable," Gandalf replied quickly. Something in his tone made the young woman think he'd encountered something embarrassing rather than scary, but she didn't pry. "I changed camps here late into the night. At which point, I realized I had a friend nearby." His eyes spoke of no ill feeling as he sat on a rock and gestured for her to join him around the dwindling embers. After a moment of rustling, he produced some bread and cheese along with some dried meat. She took it happily while he set about his own breakfast of whatever currently simmered in his pipe.

She waited.

"I feel it is not imprudent for me to ask, but why are you following me through these woods?" She swallowed her bite of bread and felt for a second time that week the question 'lie?'

"I am a tremendous fan of your fireworks?" She knew it was a half-hearted attempt, but felt it adequately saved her rear if Thorin ever came after her for spilling. Something in the wizard's genial nature had a hold on her defenses; hold meaning that they somehow couldn't find the strength to rise. A loud pop beside her ear snapped her from her reverie with the force of a warg growl and she nearly toppled over. A small dragon—or rather the semblance of a dragon as comprised of miniscule sparks—flew overhead before twisting and careening down towards their camp. It opened its mouth in a silent roar and Eda ducked her head as it shot past. In a last crescendo, it exploded into jets and streams of color, vibrant reds and golds sparkled down through the air like coloured snow. Eda laughed.

"Those fireworks?" The wizard pushed with a raised eyebrow. Her laughter crinkled to a smile and she shook her head. Her eyes still held the brilliant sparks of gold and her body seemed to shiver with amusement. It was enough to make the wizard smile a little around the end of his pipe.

"If I tell you, do you promise it stays between us for as long as I live?" He raised both eyebrows at this but nodded. It hardly seemed that such knowledge could really infuriate him more. The young woman was, while skilled, clearly not on a mission of malicious intent. She let out a long breath. "Master Thorin Oakenshield contracted me to track and report on your activities up until your arrival in the Shire." The wizard's lips pursed and his eyes narrowed at the embers of his camp fire. As if reacting to his welled anger, the embers glowed hot, flames sprouting like red seedlings.

"What a dwarf. Doesn't even trust his own companions," he muttered heatedly to himself. He continued as such for a few minutes, and Eda took the time to awkwardly munch on her bread. Truth be told, she would rather his gaze fixate on the flames than herself. She could only imagine how she might burn under such a look of frustration. At last he seemed to have spent out his anger and his eyes, more calmly, turned to her.

"Please don't tell him you know," she dared. The wizard noticed the pleading in her eyes and immediately pieced together the untold puzzle.

"What does he hold over you?"

She started to scratch her arm nervously. "S-Some of my jobs are…less than honourable." She stared at the ground between her boots then to the fire, now dying without Gandalf's fury. "He'll expose me if I fail or don't complete the task." Nervously, she chewed on the inside of her lower lip, trying to read the stranger's face. Against all hope, she held to the lingering wish he wouldn't push her for more. Smuggling wasn't exactly what she dreamed of doing when she was a little girl, but it had somehow fused to her travels and skills. And with a family working their bones into dust, she hardly felt comfortable turning away money she could send them. Her younger brother somehow got himself into scholarly pursuits, and her father eagerly recounted his success whenever she had a chance to return home. At the same time, her younger sister, at her last visit, had been with child and had gratefully accepted Eda's financial support.

Could she share these facts with a stranger? Well, yes, perhaps. Would she enjoy it? Not particularly. But if it came to guilting him to keep her failure a secret, she was willing to forfeit the pride and lay all her sins out in the sunlight.

"I won't ask any further, and you may resume your secret quest." She felt he spoke with something burning hidden under the humour. "On one request." Her heart beat rapidly and she nodded eagerly.

"Anything." He chuckled, swallowing the comment to perhaps secrete her willingness in the future. He leaned in close as if sharing a secret, and she scooted happily closer. Her ears waited with such anticipation she felt she could hear every chirp in the forest.

"You exasperate Thorin with details of my fireworks." She snickered and struck out a hand, which he took gently.

"Done."

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please let me know whatever you think could be improved. :)


	3. In the Shire

Note: Thank you for the help, everyone. I will go back to review grammar and spelling-oh, the woes of poor English. :) This chapter is rather short, but I hope you enjoy it. I am still trying to get a hand on the dwarves for the next few chapters, but please tell me if you think I am straying pathetically.

I am currently stalking the URLs of OrisounAsh's story "The Longsword and the Bow" as well as "When Comes the Dawn" by BlueRiverSteel. You should join in if you haven't already.

Disclaimer: I am simply playing in Tolkein's sandbox. I own nothing but for the woman.

* * *

Eda held her palms to the fire's gentle flames. The nights felt darker and wary, so she and the wizard had agreed that a higher shelter seemed best. Gandalf, he had introduced himself, had left it to her to scout a location while he, for once, followed her. Whether he'd been lazy or offering her a chance to exercise—or prove—some skill, she didn't much mind. She'd trudged up the rocky path of a large hill and suggested they huddle in the shadows of the boulders. Gandalf had appeared to agree as he voiced approval of the overhanging brambles that would shield their camp from the sky.

"Not that I don't love stalking you, Gandalf," she spoke with a drop of amusement. "But are you almost to your destination?" Her palms started to simmer as the heat layered on, and she flipped to the backs of her hands. It had been several days since he'd discovered her. While she did continue to follow him, he had invited her to breakfasts and dinners—as well as the occasional chat if he felt particularly bored for a spell. Despite herself, she would join him whenever he asked. Other than his easy charm, she felt it odd to track someone who knew you were following.

Gandalf chuckled at her words before nodding. "Indeed. Have you never been that you don't recognize when we are nearing the Shire?" She shook her head.

"I stay to the north mostly. My family lives in the forests outside a small town, and I always considered that my start—origin—of sorts. I go elsewhere when the job needs, but I've never had a job call for the Shire before." She shrugged factually, and Gandalf felt curious to probe a little further. If nothing else, he had uncovered the woman to be plainly honest in many of her words. Perhaps it was her time isolated that lead to such a quirk, but he found it refreshing after his struggles through the words of men, elves and dwarves.

"We are close. I would recommend tomorrow after breakfast, you stay hidden. Should some of Thorin's company happen upon us, I can't say they would hide your secret from their King." Though obviously a little put out at returning to the silly perch of tracking the wizard in 'secret,' she nodded her head once to show her agreement.

"And I was just beginning to adjust to your cooking," she teased.

"My dear, I am apt to remind you that you may be a skilled trapper with a wide health of herb knowledge," he paused and their eyes met, both twinkling. "But your skills as a chef are sorely lacking."

"Well, I have to be bad at something, don't I?" She quipped back, and Gandalf took a long draw on his pipe.

"Indeed."

* * *

Eda felt a surprising amount of sadness as she watched the wizard pull ahead in the morning. She stood by the remnants of their morning and watched him disappear behind tree trunks and thickets, listening to the sound of his horse's hooves before it was swallowed up by the forest symphony. As agreed, he had taken off to get a lead so she could resume her distance. A safe distance just in case someone happened upon them.

At one point, over a mouth of cheese, she had tried pointing out that Thorin's dwarves had left later than Gandalf, and so they would be several kilometers behind. But a knowing smile from Gandalf and she had abruptly realized his meaning.

"You've been meandering there?" She had asked incredulously.

"All things arrive exactly when needed," Gandalf had returned before extinguishing the last embers of the fire.

So they continued through the day. Forests lightened and Eda could glimpse rolling hills of verdant green. When the forest ended, Eda stared in warm enthrallment at what she assumed was the Shire. Picket fences, gardens and round, wooden doors set in the ground. Part of her wanted to get off the road, even if Gandalf was too far away for anyone to claim he saw her, but facing the well-tended patches of rose-bushes and clean windows, she didn't have the faintest idea how to exactly go about hiding amongst hill homes. And so she stood, dumbstruck.

"Excuse me. Miss?" A door snapped shut, and she looked over to see a portly, short man striding over. Either distrust or curiosity wrote over his face, but she didn't look long enough to distinguish which. "May I help you with something?" 'Well, distrust, it seems,' she thought as she recognized the tune well enough.

"I am most sorry," she replied quickly, purposefully adopting a slightly higher voice than her natural one. "I had heard beautiful things of the Shire, and I was simply awe-struck." She smiled like she did when convincing someone to let her pass without inspection. It seemed to have a similar affect as the hobbit softened and his shoulders relaxed. "Praytell, you wouldn't know of a way I could get to a better viewing, would you? I am a traveling artist, and I would love to try and capture the serenity of your land. Only," she gestured to the road beneath her feet, "I wish to avoid doing so from this road." He gave pause, but she waited and played a hopeful, bashful look on her face. With a sigh, he pointed to his left and up.

"The Sackvilles are at market. You could go along their path to this hill-top." She beamed, almost earnestly, and bowed.

"Thank you, oh, thank you Master Hobbit." He shrugged and turned to his rose-bush as she walked off towards the empty house. In fact, the vantage point, which she had decided to take from what she assumed to be the the home's roof, did help as she searched to spot the grey wizard. In the low distance, she finally caught sight of his hat and staff. He stood in front of a home very similar to the one on which she currently perched. She couldn't tell what happened from the distance but knew a hobbit must undoubtedly be involved. Movement and a small figure appeared in view. It walked to the front post then hurried up the steps to the front door. Seconds later and it was inside, leaving Gandalf much alone at the fence. She watched as he strode up to the door. She expected him to knock but only saw him move his staff. As he turned to stride away, she thought she glimpsed a shimmer on the bottom of the door, but it was gone before she could find any certainty. 'At least,' she thought, 'I know where they will be meeting.'

But that knowledge didn't mean she knew what to do next. Somehow she was to get a report to Thorin without anyone knowing. Yet he did not say when he would arrive or how she could deliver this report. Her mind hummed and her mouth unconsciously followed suit.

"Hey! Who are you? What are you doing on my house?" The sound of a fence swinging shut and her eyes snapped back to the scene. Only a split second before her mind made the unanimous decision: run. She bolted for the hills.

* * *

Eda had spent the better part of her remaining daylight back in the shield of the woods. She had pilfered some parchment and a quill from an open window but sat at the base of a tree, a stick in hand as she tried ot think of how best to file a report. The obvious choice remained to simply write a recount of the wizard's travel, but she bulked at the idea for a multitude of reasons. Briefly, she had considered enlisting Gandalf to enchant the paper so it was burst into fireworks when opened—if he could do such a thing, she hadn't the faint idea—but such a report would undoubtedly lead to questions she couldn't talk her way out of. On the ground, scratched into the dirt, was her most recent draft. A rough map of their travels with accompany dates. She took liberty to invent stays at village inns to account for his meandering path, but otherwise, it was an accurate retelling.

"Overlooking the part where he knew about me," she added to herself. "Now how to get it in front of his face and none other." She grumbled in her throat. "I could always shoot it at him," she mused, the stick scratching a crude arrow in the ground. Her boot erased it. "Might actually hit him." Another idea? Her growl grew, and the stick started haphazardly attacking the dirt in her frustration. Smuggling meant everyone participated. Which meant times and codes. Schedules. He had left her without the slightest idea of how or when to expect him. She sighed, already disliking the plan creeping out her brain. The only way to get him then, would be to stay the only place she knew he'd be.

"Right," she stood gingerly and spoke to no one. "How does one set about infiltrating a hobbit hole?"


	4. Unlikely Intrusion

Note: Rather short, but the following piece will be long and more dwarf-centered (less of Eda present). Thank you for reading. I have many more chapters written than what I have up, but I'm trying to pace myself to updating every three days. It's hard, though. :)

Disclaim: I disclaim everything. The words are mine, the characters are not. :) Except for Eda.

* * *

Bilbo Baggins felt a sharp spurt of annoyance at the gentle knock on the door. After his encounter with Gandalf, he had effectively sealed himself in his home, a hearty book in hand as he settled into a comfortable chair. That had been hours ago, and his mood was just starting to relax when he heard someone at the door. 'If it's that ruddy wizard, again…' he thought to himself as he set the book aside and strode to the door. A peek out the window showed him a brown traveling cloak, and his expression eased. Not the grey of the wizard.

He opened the door, a flood of late afternoon sunlight welling on his hardwood floor. He blinked repeatedly and shifted, as if adjusting his view to what stood before him. The young woman was beaming at him and looking positively ecstatic in a way that made the Baggins immediately nervous.

"Uhm," he cleared his throat. "Good afternoon." She didn't say anything. "May I help you?"

"Oh, I'm so glad I found you!" She took a step forward but had not yet come past the threshold. Bilbo tensed ever so slightly as his eyebrows knitted in visible confusion.

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe—"

"I'm so sorry I am late, but my mother's directions were of hardly any help in finding this place. Then again, it has been over a decade since she last visited. She clutched her hands in front of her giddy smile. "I'm so glad to have finally met you in person, Master S-Sackville!" She struggled to recall the full name the earlier hobbit had used. Bilbo felt his expression drop from his face.

"W-what? No, I think you are mistaken." He could see her teetering dangerously on his front porch, a hair's breath from stepping the threshold into his home. It felt like an impending invasion, and he struggled to get the words out as quickly as possible. "I am not a Sackville. I am a Baggins." He placed a hand to his chest before gesturing to the space before him, "of Bag End. You have the wrong person, I'm afraid." He started to close the door when he caught sight of her crumpled face.

"But my mother gave me the directions," she murmured, still trying to keep eye contact. He could see something of a map clasped in her hand. "I'm already tired and alone, and the travelers who helped me get here already continued on their way. They said I would find you here." The exhaustion tinting her voice was nothing to the desperation, and Bilbo found himself opening his door with a small sigh. His mother would never have approved turning away a lonely woman traveler for the sake of solace with his books.

"Would you like to come in for a short rest?" Her face lit with a sad, grateful smile and she took a hesitant step in. He led her to the hearth and offered her one of the chairs—though not his favourite chair. "Warm yourself by the fire for a bit, and I will find you something to eat." She opened her mouth to protest but he shook his head. "Just something small, so don't worry." He smiled lightly. "It won't be a burden." She shot him another grateful smile, and he nodded before briskly walking to the kitchen.

While clearly a human, she didn't tower over him the way he expected—meaning she was either shorter than average or his books had lied to him. Her hair was wrapped in a bun behind her head, and her bangs hung just over dark eyebrows. She traveled, he noticed with a surprise, in men's clothing, but perhaps that was safer for her. With her cloak drawn, he mused, she wouldn't give much indication of being a woman. He pulled out some cheese, bread and fruit and placed it on a plate next to a cheese knife, fork and napkin.

His own stomach grumbled at the delicious sight, and he reckoned his own dinner needed to follow. Once the young woman could decide where she would go from here. 'She certainly can't stay here,' he stated silently. His feet tread softly on the way back to the young woman only to find her dozing gently, her head dropped to the side. Shifting awkwardly, he cleared his throat, receiving no result, before setting the plate on a small wooden table to her right.

"Right then," he murmured, arms swinging at his side while he rocked on his feet. "Guess I'll get to that dinner." For a second, it seemed as if he would instead wake the woman, but seeing a faint trickle of drool at the corner of her mouth, he decided against disruption and turned back to his kitchen.

At the sounds of knifes and pans and a crackling stove, Eda opened her eyes. A palm hastily wiped the drool from her mouth and she took a quick peek around her chair. True to the sounds, the hobbit busied around. Occasionally, he would pass through the hall towards another room and return with an armload of some food. The sky peering in through the round windows was steadily darkening. and she waited until it seemed dusky enough before creeping towards the kitchen. If she had guessed correctly, she had just secured herself at least one night in the hobbit hole.

"Master Hobbit?" She heard his pan sizzling while a knife chopped something. She rounded the corner and he paused. "I am most sorry I intruded only to fall asleep." She produced a bashful look and he shrugged lightly.

"No worry," she saw him glance at the window to see the heavy sky and could've sworn he sighed. "I fear it's too late for you to be out traveling by yourself—much less when you do not know where to go. I have a spare bedroom you could use for the night and tomorrow I could take a look at the map and correct the directions to whichever Sackville you are searching for." She brightened and her eyes flashed a hazel colour in the light of his kitchen. He checked his pan and slid a fish into its center, happy with the crackle. He sprinkled some herbs before turning back to the woman, who eyed the fish warily. He grinned despite himself.

"How 'bout I show you the room and you can rest?" She gave a silent, energetic affirmative and politely followed him through the halls to the spare bedroom. He opened the door for her to reveal a sparse bed. Previously, it served as storage for his unsorted books, but he had gratefully cleared most out. A small chest stood against the wall and two hobbit-sized end tables partnered the bed. He lit a candle and placed it on one such end table.

"There are more candles in the table and there is a small light," he pointed up at a delicate, metal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. She entered and smiled wider-if possible.

"I forgot to ask, Master Hobbit." She turned to him. "What is your name?"

He blinked, having forgotten the propriety in all the surprise. "Uh, Bilbo." He cleared his throat. "Bilbo Baggins." She bowed.

"Eda, myself. A pleasure to meet you, Master Bilbo Baggins." Reminder of his fish prompted a quick response.

"Right, I will leave you to it, then." And he turned to hurry back to his dinner.

Hearing the hobbit back in his kitchen, Eda's own stomach grumbled, furious at her for leaving the plate of food lonely and untouched by the fire. 'Fruit,' she thought hungrily. A quick peek out the door told her the hall was empty, and she darted out on tip-toes. In some way, she knew she needn't be so secretive about moving about, yet she couldn't help it. Besides, she thought with a small smirk, it was like a secret quest. It reminded her of the times her sister and she would sneak around their home; always they tried to sneak up on their father, who seemed greater than a wizard or life itself in his ability to foil their attempts to surprise him. 'Perhaps that's where the tracking started,' she thought happily.

She made it to the food without problem, silently making a victorious speech of her triumph as she claimed the plate and held it protectively to her chest. A part of her knew to take it back to her room first, but the growl of her stomach demanded compensation. Just a bite, she thought as she ripped off a piece of bread and stuffed it in her mouth. Her eyes closed and a contented smile spread like soft butter. 'If all hobbits have food this exceptional, I might just move.' The next taste she didn't bother to tear and instead took a heaving bite. She chuckled as she struggled to rip away the piece—while soft on the inside, it presented a formidable crust.

It was at that moment that she heard a knock at the door. She stilled immediately, bread still hanging from her mouth and plate cradled in her hands. Only a second later and she darted from the room and back down the hall to her room. She could hear a chair scrape on the floor and soft footsteps towards the door through the crack she left in her door. She recognized the gruff accent of Dwalin instantly and settled in for a night of eavesdropping.

* * *

Happy Valentine's Day.


	5. Burglary

Author: And just as I said "every three days," I face a few days of potentially no internet access while I move about. So I'm going to post this earlier rather than later. There's very little Eda-only if you squint-but I wanted to try getting into the dwarves boots. Not everything about the woman, after all. Let me know what you think or what I could fix.

Disclaimer: This is just for fun, and I own nothing but the girl.

* * *

Thorin Oakenshield raised a heavy, purposed hand and struck the wood. To his lower side, Gandalf's mark glimmered like ink made of stars. The ruckus inside immediately quieted. He didn't bother to suppress the feeling of pride; clearly, they knew who must stand on the other side of the door. In the seconds it took for the company to reach the door, his mind flitted to the trapper. He'd not entirely forgotten to ask her name before leaving. Forgetting implied he had originally intended to ask. The dwarves who bought from and recognized her around their settlements simply called her by whatever adjective seems easiest. As her appearance is rather common, it often settled on 'northern woman,' or 'Lhun trapper'—in reference to her most frequently visited forest. Balin knew her name—as the wise dwarf seemed to know most everything—and so Thorin had left it to him to draft a contract. The contract that rustled somewhere in his pack. He had taken a brief glance at it upon Fili's delivery but found the signature nothing more than a close shamble of scratched letters. Had it not been for the witness signature, he would have thought she meant it as another attempt to escape. Speaking of escape, he glanced over the darkened scenery. Small circles of warm candlelight shone at him from the different hills and the moon peered into its reflection on the lake's surface. She had yet to make herself or her report known. The first was preferable but the lack of the second agitated him. The agitation washed from his expression as a warm light welcomed him.

"Gandalf," he stepped inside, making to shed his cloak. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice. Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

A voice piped up in vehement denial while Gandalf closed the door. Thorin surveyed the dwarves surrounding them, filling the round doorways with their bodies, and smiled faintly.

"There is a mark," Gandalf explained to the short man. "I put it there myself." Gandalf raised a hand and gestured at the hobbit before him. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield." The hobbit turned to him, and Thorin let his attention scrutinize. It was still impressive to see something so closely resembling a man yet still smaller than himself. After all, dwarves were not known for their height. He stepped forward and crossed his arms.

"So, this is the hobbit." For just a second, they met eyes before he started to circle the hobbit, who seemed rightly perturbed by the action. "Tell me, Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon me?" Such a well-bred, gentle response did not go unnoticed, and he continued on as if Bilbo hadn't even spoken.

"Axe or sword? What is your weapon of choice?" He found Dori chuckling in the doorframe, and, while feeling his own sense of pride at his apparent intimidation, his annoyance simmered deeply. Whatever possessed Gandalf to consider this hobbit as something or potential or import, he couldn't fathom a guess. But he felt confident that it would take only a matter of minutes before such a fact because apparent to everyone else, including the wizard himself.

"Well, I am quite skilled at conkers, if you must know," the hobbit faltered in his jesting tone. "But I fail to see why that's relevant." Bilbo shifted on his feet and Thorin drew himself up.

"Thought as much," Thorin answered simply. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." The comment went more towards his companions, a few of whom shared his sardonic humour. Without another word, the King Under the Mountain walked away from the hobbit and followed his men to the kitchen.

"Would you like some food?" Dori's voice popped up. "We still have some soup and bread left." Thorin nodded. For the most part, the company was silent in the short trek to the kitchen. As he neared, Thorin heard Dori's voice mingled with a high-pitched female tone.

"Mister Baggins, do you have other company tonight?" He turned to find the hobbit several paces behind their group. Gandalf was hunched beside him and both wore looks of surprise.

"W-what? No. I mean, I have a friend staying just briefly on her way, but she's been sleeping in the spare room…" Thorin turned back and strode into the kitchen. Immediately, he recognized the human stature as it hunched over to help Dori assemble a bowl of warm soup.

He cleared his throat and both figures turned. The woman stood a full head taller than his tallest dwarf. Her pale skin glowed in the candlelight but he glimpsed her narrow eyes widen at him from under heavy eyebrows.

"Oh, oh, I'se sorreh," she dribbled out. "I just came to return me dishes and I run into Mister…" she looked to Dori for his name.

"Dori." She smiled feebly.

"Yeah, yeah." She looked back at them and courtsied awkwardly. "I'll head off now," she anxiously skirted the group—for which some of the dwarves seemed affronted—and disappeared down the hall. Dori raised the tray upon which the bowl rested.

"Some soup, sir?"

Thorin pushed away the hint of a smirk and sat down. Were it not for the fact that he had been waiting for some sign of her, he would never have recognized the signs that the trapper had just passed by. He sat down to the bowl of soup when his eyes snagged on the napkin carefully wrapped around the spoon handle. Carefully, he slipped the spoon from its sheath. To all others in the room, their murmuring chatter covered it, but his ears picked out the sound of rustling. Something other than napkin cloth. One hand moved the cloth to his lap where he let it unravel, the parchment falling silently from its folds. One task finished, he turned his attention to his company and his meal.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin started in eagerly.

"Did they all come?" Another asked to which Thorin gave an affirmative murmur.

"Aye, envoys from all seven kingdoms." The surrounding dwarves gave noises of satisfaction.

"And what do the dwaves of the Iron Hills say?" Thorin looked to Dwalin. "Is Dain with us?" Thorin inhaled a steadying breath at the memory.

"They will not come." His voice kept low to shield the disappointment and frustration. "They say this quest is ours and ours alone." His company quickly started to exchange glanced and disappointed grumblings.

"You're going on a quest?" A voice popped from his left, pulling every pair of eyes to the s hobbit.

"Bilbo," Gandalf cut in. "My dear fellow. Let us have a little more light." The hobbit made a simply nod and moved away while Gandalf stood, pulling a piece of parchment into the light. "Far to the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single, solitary peak."

A candle hovered at Thorin's shoulder, a small hobbit hand holding aloft as Bilbo read slowly, "the Lonely Mountain."

"Aye," Gloin started before going into his brief lecture about the return of the ravens. For his part, Thorin stayed silent, listening to Oin's gravel voice reciting the lines Thorin heard whispering in his dreams. Once again Bilbo's voice sounded out. Thorin realized the young Halfling was behind him and sounded most unawares. No small part of him appreciated that Gandalf had kept the quest a secret from the hobbit until their arrival; less knowledge and less tongues waging in ways they shouldn't.

Bofur launched into a metaphorical rendition of the beast, forcing Thorin to stare hard at the wood of the dinner table. Thorin stole a glance at Gandalf as he felt the hobbit nearing the table. Had it not been for the hobbit's insistence he knew of dragons, Thorin would have assumed the Halfling hardly recognized the description. About to quip to Gandalf about his choice of burglar, Thorin was cut short as Ori stood, making energetic—and amusing—declarations before his brother pulled him back into his seat.

"The path would be difficult enough with an army behind us," Balin said briskly. "But we number just thirteen. And not thirteen of the best," he shuffled, "nor brightest." His nephew's idealistic voice quieted the company's grumblings of insult. Thorin studied his two nephews, their wide-eyes still readily apparent to him as they spoke. Still, he couldn't rebuff them their hope—for was that not the reason to keep going upon this quest? While their arguments for joining the company had heavily focused on their fresh senses and physical skills, their greater optimism had tilted the scales to their favour. Knowing everything the ragtag company could face in its trek, Thorin had decided a pair of smiling, youthful faces might bring some much needed sunlight when the days were dark. That didn't mean he wasn't amused at Kili's elated declaration of Gandalf's unknown dragon slaying. Less amusing was the ensuing commotion, and he yelled in Khuzdul. Immedaite silence.

"If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?" The fervour grew in his voice. The company responded in kind and he sat.

"You forget the front gate is sealed," Balin pointed out. "There is no way into the mountain." His eyes shifted just enough to show his own discomfort at being the one to bring down their excitement.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," Gandalf replied softly. His fingers moved purposefully and a glimmer of black metal twisted effortlessly into view. Thorin felt thunderstruck. For too long he had grappled with the very fact Balin had just presented. His nights of considering the quest, tossing back and forth about what attempt could be made if every entrance was sealed. A fateful meeting in an inn had lead to this very notion of reclaiming Erebor, and, like a seed, it had sprouted in Thorin's mind, growing with such a decisive passion that its roots reached through every part of him. Had he just discovered a new grace upon their quest?

"How came you by this?" His breath came out slowly.

"It was given to me by your father, Thrain, for safe keeping." At the mention of his father, Throin's eyes raised to the wizard's face. He struggled to keep his expression simple and cautiously guarded, but he felt his every action hinging on what Gandalf held in his hand. "'Tis yours now." His fingers wrapped around the metal, at first gently before enfolding it in a gentle fist. Hope.

"If there is a key, there must be a door."

"These runes speak of a hidden passage into the lower halls."

"There's another way in." Kili's happiness seeped every syllable.

"Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed," Gandalf spoke simply and let out a sigh. "The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it, but there are others in Middle Earth who can." Thorin met his eyes. Through all mentionings, discussions and short arguments of their quest, Throin knew the opinion Gandalf held of his grudge against Elves. It did not pass the king lightly that the wizard had neglected to specify whom said help could come from. "The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage. " Gandalf looked away from them and his gaze lingered on the hobbit behind. "But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

Ori stood again from his seat. "That's why we need a burglar!"

Thori tilted his head to glance at the hobbit to his side. While he appeared to agreed at their need, Thorin easily recognized an utter lack of comprehension in his words. He refrained from a smirk as the hobbit floundered, obviously confused when one of the company asked him if he was thusly qualified. Balin let out what everyone else was likely thinking—most certainly the King's own thoughts—when he doubted the hobbit's capacity.

"Aye," Dwalin joined in. "The wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves." The King silently mulled over the points, but his fellow dwarves broke into chatter. A second later a voice thundered over them like a growing storm, and the candlelight disappeared to a sweeping darkness emenating from their wizard. As quickly as it started, it receeded.

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage." Gandalf sat. "You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mister Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know." The wizard did not hide his lingering frustration. "Including himself." Thorin returned to the wizard's face, his own expression mute. "You must trust me on this." Such words had rarely passed openly between them, and Thorin felt his thoughts tripping. While he would never say publicly, he knew that Gandalf would not say such things lightly; they may have disputed details and come to clash on occasion, but he trusted the wizard's wisdom and prized his alliance. Not that he would ever say so.

"Give him a contract." Balin breached into a quick overview of the contents, and Thorin pushed it over his shoulder and into the hobbit's chest. The parchment rustled and the hobbit's mumbling hummed behind him. Thorin stood smoothly and silently, leaning into Gandalf's confidence.

"I cannot guarantee his safety."

"Understood."

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate," Thorin added quietly.

Gandalf's eyes met his own. "Agreed." Thorin returned to standing, and Gandalf's expression turned to amusement at the sound of Bilbo's reading of the contract. Dwarf contracts were nothing if not specific and all-encompassing. Bofur stepped in to add light brutality with a smile.

"Aye, it'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye." Thorin didn't need to look at the hobbit to know what he likely looked like. Balin's inquiry added to Thorin's certainty that the Halfling fared less than well. Bofur stepped up.

"Think furnace with wings."

"I-I-I need air," the hobbit's thick voice spoke to no one in particular. Thorin turned to take a look at their host and found him standing with heavy shoulders.

"Think flash of light, searing pain, then poof, you're nothin' more than a pile of ash!" Silence followed. Thorin studied every twitch as Bilbo first straightened then seemed to shift, as if settling back into his skin. A brief glance in another direction, a "no" and their burglar collapsed to the ground.

* * *

Gandalf moved first to the hobbit, and Thorin turned back to his company. "Start finding places to rest. We'll stay here for the night and leave in the morning." He took a pause. It didn't take a look back to hear Gandalf moving the hobbit to another room. "With or without Mister Baggins." And so the company of dwarves stood from the table, in more or less strong spirits, and shuffled out of the kitchen to explore the house for apt sleeping arrangements.

Dwalin approached the King casually. "I didn't know hobbits had such eclectic social circles," the tall dwarf mused aloud. "A wizard, a woman and now dwarves." His eyes locked with Thorin's.

"Quite a collection," Thorin responded plainly, his arms crossed over his chest while he leaned against a curved doorframe. Dwalin shook his head gruffly for only a second before wandering off. Dwaln's attention peeked at the sound of humoured jesting down the hall, and he followed the trickle of sound.

"How was I to kow there was someone else in this house besides our company?" Kili's indignant, low voice shot out through the chuckles.

"My dear brother, if you had used your eyes earlier, you would have realized a woman was in the house." Fili's voice dipped and flew as he tried to restrain a laugh.

"I thought the doils were simply a quirk of Mister Baggins," his brother replied, referring to the strangely holed cloths they had found throughout the house. Nori was currently pocketing a few, to be sure, if for no reason but to stuff his pockets. Bofur smiled good-naturedly around his pipe.

"Aye, I'd say they are," he added, using his pipe to point at the decorations. "I doubt a woman visitor would decorate her host's home. But say, lad, did you not see her when Thorin arrived? She stood a head taller than you." Kili seemed unnerved by the thought but too curious to let a description pass.

"She's tall?"

"Everyone's tall to you, Kili," Fili jested, earning him a rough shove. "You didn't see her when you barged in on the spare bedroom?" Kili shuffled in immediate discomfort, but his brother threw a large arm around his shoulders and laughed.

"I saw only a figure sleeping before I ran out. I didn't even know it was a woman." Apparently he'd only furthered his plight because the small group broke into another round of laughter.

"Don't even know what a woman looks like, Kili?" The blond dwarf's arm was flung away as Kili sulked in his annoyance. "Well, I suppose I was always the better one with the ladies." A hoot of laughter from Bofur, and the young prince stalked off. Dwalin smirked despite himself.

A second later the hobbit walked past, looking downtrodden but resigned. Bofur and Dwalin exchanged a brief glance before the taller dwarf strode down the hall to the wizard. An unsigned contract lay discarded on the table and Gandalf puffed pensively on his pipe, his eyes trained on the opposite window.

A part of Dwalin wished to reiterate what he'd said earlier. The wild was indeed no place for someone as gentle—and prudish—as Mister Baggins. But he held his tongue, and instead set about settling into one of the armchairs. If only they hadn't run through all the mead already.

Down the hall, Thorin's voice lingered: "Mister Baggins, tell your human guest to join us."


	6. Contracts

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters are Tolkein's. I supposedly own this story and Eda. But considering it's somehow taken on a life of it's own, I don't know if that is still true.

* * *

Eda lumbered after the hobbit. Sleep still tugged at her eyes. 'How did they ever wake from such comfortable beds?' she only barely contained the thought from spilling out in a vocal sentence. Her path to the living room garnered attention, and the remaining dwarves followed, faces written with curiosity and confusion.

Thorin stood in the light of the hearth. She bowed efficiently and tried to swallow a small yawn.

"I see you have lost your previous height," Thorin noted. Indeed, she was back to her view of the world closer to the ground—perhaps even a few centimeters lower than her last encounter with the king since she had left her boots and several books at the foot of her bed. Rather than answer, she shrugged. Words were slow in coming and she didn't feel much like sparing them on him anyway.

"The rest of your appearance." It came out like a command as opposed to a request for explanation. 'Fair enough,' she thought, 'I'd like to get this off anyway,' She looked around.

"A cloth or something to—"a dwarf with a distinct triple mohawk thrust some sort of linen in front of her. She picked it up gingerly, inspecting the delicate details and numerous holes. Doilies. 'S'ppose so.' She faintly registered the hobbit's voice exclaiming that doilies were not for cleaning, but she nevertheless folded it and wiped it across her face. Her tan skin appeared, looking much darker as it stood next to the white paste. A disgruntled huff and subtle footsteps—along with a few deep chuckles—told her the hobbit had abandoned them all for his bed. The same dwarf offered another similar piece of cloth when it looked like the first was used up. The black coal she'd used to thicken her eyebrows stained the cream colour, but she continued the same, and Thorin continued with his questioning.

"You were recognized by Dwaln." She closed her eyes to conceal their roll.

"If you were a true professional, you wouldn't have had someone else in the room when you gave me the assignment." Her words came out succinctly.

"Your method of completion was sloppy. Anyone could have seen or mistakenly intercepted," he continued. Her mouth tipped downwards, and her eyes narrowed.

"Calculated risk."

"Your report was amateur and over-detailed on trivial matters," he shot another at her. She smirked. In the end, she had drawn a map of the wizard's path to the Shire. It included crudely drawn illustrations of the wizard eating and sleeping—along with times at which he did so—as well as a full page of elaborate—if ugly—recreations of his numerous fireworks.

Her smirk coloured her words with a tone of self-satisfaction. "Revenge." A pause. "I didn't technically break any rules. You never specified how to write the report."

"Excuse me." At this point Gandalf stepped in and forward. Eda though she glimpsed a smile tucked in his eyes. "Thorin, who is the young lady?" This seemed to satisfy Thorin further.

"Meet our burglar."

"You can be seriously considering a human woman as a burglar," Gloin blurted.

"Aye, the hobbit was bad enough, but a lassie would cause even more trouble," Bofur hastened to add. A swell of noise as every dwarf jostled the air to share his opinion—either with Thorin directly or each other. For his part, Gandalf looked perplexed but reserved, though possibly teetering on anger should Thorin proceed unwisely. The group quieted when the wizard asked for an explanation.

"Yes, that would be great," the woman added sharply.

"I sent for this woman while we waited for you to return and give news of our burglar. Days had passed and we had no news of whether you'd fared well in your search. I enlisted the woman—"

"I have a name—"

"for a task." He took a moment and tried to consider how best to phrase his next sentence. "I had her track you from your departure to your arrival at the Shire. I did not know if she would succeed in avoiding discovery, but I wanted a test of her skills. Tonight, at dinner, she succeeded in conveying her report to me without discovery—though I would hesitate to call her efforts successful or admirable." She shrugged as if unburdened with a care in the world for his opinion. She refused a fifth doiley from Nori and turned to them. Both of Thorin's nephews gave a jolt of recognition.

"You said you were going north!" Kili sounded almost injured by the realization she had lied to him. The younger dwarf's eyes met those of his uncle and he explained, "I met Miss Eda in the stables." His mind clicked it together. "I suppose she was waiting for her time to leave after Mister Gandalf." At his name, the company looked to the wizard, who appeared amused, curious and cautious.

"And you think she is qualified enough to join your company?"

"Had I another choice, I would have taken it." The woman breathed out low, almost growling, at the insult.

"Not that I am not flattered," she interrupted tartly. "But you have yet to even ask if I want to join."

"Do you want to jo-?" It was Kili who asked.

"No." Her eyes narrowed. "I finished my bargain, and I am quite done with the dwarves of the Blue Mountains for now."

"But how will we buy your game?" Again Kili spoke out of turn only to receive a resounding slap to the back of his head from Fili.

Thorin ignored the woman's words and spoke to Balin, though his eyes remained focused on her expression. "Give her a contract." The older dwarf blinked. Surely he couldn't be serious? Yet he had been told to bring at least one copy of the contract. Such the copy that he pulled from his coat and handed to Thorin, who practically threw it at the woman.

"Read it first," he ordered brusquely. She shifted anxiously then marched off, growls mingling in her long exhale.

"Thorin," Balin broke the silence first. "A woman? Surely we are not so desperate—"

"She is a hunter with familiarity to the woods and stealth." He hated the words coming out. It sounded too much like he wanted such a solution when such a solution seemed like the most pathetic of desperation. "She is a thief and smuggler as well, making her as qualified as the hobbit for such a task as the one we have in mind." He met the old man's quizzical gaze then those of his company. "I would not wish for this burglar—not once were I to live a hundred lifetimes. Yet Mister Baggins has refused our offer, and, as we have no dwarf kin capable of such a task, we must pull from what little may be found." He glanced at the woman as she stood in the hall light, staring at the parchment. "Even if it is the littlest of all."

* * *

Her eyes felt exhausted already, and she had only been staring at the contract for twenty seconds. A hand raked over her face, and a groan ground out. Why she continued to hold the paper—rather than simply shoving it back at Thorin's face with a resounding 'no'—she couldn't hazard a guess. She could, however, curse her curiosity. As it was, her curiosity was giving her a headache.

Heavy footsteps of dwarf boots sounded beside her.

"Having trouble?" She glanced out the corner of her eye.

"Why would you say that?"

"You look like Kili did when Balin tried to teach him chess," the blond prince answered lightly. Without a word, she shuffled further down the hallway and ducked into a doorway. He followed, his expression one of concerned confusion, as if worrying she was suddenly deranged.

"I-I." She took a deep inhale. "Promise first that you won't tell anyone." She waited silently.

"Should I sign a contract of secrecy?" He questioned innocently, his eyes searching briefly for a second piece of paper. She rolled her eyes and fought ot keep her hands from clawing her own face off.

"No. Just…promise. Consider it a verbal contract—"

"Who's the witness—"

"Oh, Valar have mercy! No witness, just promise, damnit!" He startled at the words but nodded his head.

"I promise."

Her breath came out in a tremor but she thrust the contract into his chest. "I-I can't read."

At the words, her entire upper body had slumped forward, her eyes scrunched shut and her mouth pursed. She hated admitting it to anyone, much less a stranger, but her curiosity to know what the contract said had lead her to this point. Her hands pressing the crisp parchment into a young dwarf prince's chest. And the chest was…heaving? Distinct chuckles reached her ears, and her head snapped up, eyes wide.

"What are you laughing for?" She demanded in a hiss. Her hands pulled away, itching to damage him in some way. He held up a hand of his own, waving it like a peace flag.

"Nothing, nothing." He straightened the paper out before him. "I've just never seen such a dramatic declaration over something so minor." Her eyes narrowed.

"Alright, alright, just read it already, your highness," she ground out. His chuckles subsided.

"Would you like me to read it to you as a bedtime story?" This time her mind wasn't fast enough to restrain her hand, and it flew forward to smack him on the arm. Fili simply sniggered more. 'Damn their thick coats,' she cursed inwardly.

"Just read the important parts before I choke you with it—"

"That would certainly make signing it very difficu—"

"Now!"

With a flourish, he straightened the paper. Eda leaned in, waiting, for what felt like minutes before he locked eyes with her.

"What do you consider to be important?" 'Oh, of all the ruddy dwarves to help,' she thought, running a hand over her face.

"How much is the prize?" He didn't even bother to scan the paper.

"Not exceeding one fourteenth of the treasure in Erebor." Seeing her lack of recognition, he felt the need to add, "that's a lot of gold."

"Erebor is where?"

"Far away."

"Great. That was helpful. So very helpful. Immense—"

"Past Mirkwood."

"Right. Why do you need a thief?"

"A nasty furnace with wings currently resides there." The prince seemed proud of his paraphrasing and folded the contract up before holding it out to her. Hazel eyes flitted incredulously between his smiling face and the outstretched paper.

"I'm not done yet!"

"I am, though." He feigned a long, stretching yawn. "Reading contracts for someone is very tiring business." He pushed the paper into her hands with a wink. "Best you just sign it so we can all get some sleep."

"I still don't know anything!" Her indignation rose heatedly through her voice.

"What else do you need to know? Vast wealth awaits you, and you will have the pleasure of traveling with twelve of the most dashing dwarves in all of Middle Earth." Another wink, and he left her standing in the doorway.


	7. Pockets

Author nonsense: Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoy the next installment. The Hobbit 2 just released in China, so, luckily, I have yet to make it to that since I won't likely have access to it for at least another month or more. I hope this is truly three days from my last update, but I get confused if the update dates are in my time in China or the US. So, I'll take this as a guess in my time-addled brain.

Disclaimer: All you recognize is Tolkein.

And thank you, 19seventythree for all your support.

* * *

Eda wasn't completely illiterate. She knew how to write the names of her family, and she knew her letters and numbers. It was only when someone put the blasted letters into groups that she struggled. Her father could read basics, but he never considered teaching his daughter such when he could teach her how to read animal tracks. Her mother had married young and had never wanted her future one of scholarly pursuits. For Eda's few years in school, she had paid little attention, and so, when the family's money ran thin after a poor season, she had voluntarily dropped out and never looked back.

She could still do her jobs; smuggling rarely used contracts or any written evidence so her need for verbal instructions gave little hinderance. If it required recognizing a correct catch, she would quickly shove the words into her brain with a short-term memorization. Facing the dwarf contract was the first time in twenty odd years she wished whole-heartedly that she had learned to read.

The blond dwarf's voice echoed in her ears. "One fourteenth of the treasure in Erebor." She exhaled low and long, and the sound gradually turned to a whispered whistle. Surely dwarves wouldn't take on a dragon for a few gold coins. The dwarf settlements in the Blue Mountains hadn't the grandeur of historical kingdoms, she knew, but they had settled comfortably in the caverns. To draw them away from a safe home, she reasoned, it must be a mountain of gold itself. 'Enough gold to settle me and my family,' she thought. Seconds later she darted into what looked like a study, grabbed a quill from atop the desk and scratched her name on the line.

* * *

Eda quickly discovered the difficulty of sleeping underground when she returned to her room and realized the lack of windows in this specific room meant she wouldn't see dawn. The idea of relying on the dwarves to wake her struck uncomfortably in the gut. Bidding a sad farewell to the soft bed, she grabbed her boots, pack and headed back to the hearth. Most of the dwarves had given to sleep after their song and a few rounds of pipe smoking. Eda could hear their snores before she even entered the room and stopped in the doorway, her eyes searching the ground and furniture for an open space. Two of the younger dwarves lay before the fire, immersed in conversation. A meter away—enough of a distance for her to slip in—sat another of the young dwarves. She stepped cautiously through the limbs and made brief eye contact with the dwarf as she moved towards him. She tried miming her intent, but his eyes had averted to the notebook resting in his gloved hands.

"I-is anyone—" he shook his head fervently but didn't move his eyes from his book. She shrugged and sat down beside him. After a second of silence, her curiosity piqued and she leaned in his direction, her eyes trying to steal a glance at the pages of his book. He immediately jerked the book closer to his chest and tilted away. She frowned in a sort of resigned annoyance and wrapped herself in her cloak.

"Don't take it personally," a young voice reached out. She looked at the two dwarves at the hearth. The brunette spoke, "he doesn't show anyone what he writes in there." Kili's face broke with a mischievous grin and she felt the young dwarf beside her shrinking behind his pages. "Fili and I have a wager on what it is."

At this, the blond, Fili, piped up. "I say they are fantastic renderings of all our glory."

"I attest they are secret letters of love and longing for a dwarf lass." Eda would have easily sworn she felt heat radiating from the silent dwarf at her side. Somehow their very conspiracies spoke to something of the two brothers, and Eda felt tickles of amusement.

"Perhaps they are secret recipes to grow great beards," she suggested. The attention turned to Kili, who held a look of mock indignation and intense curiosity.

"I shall have to steal the book as soon as our Ori has rested his eyes, then!" he declared. Ori let out a hiccup and clutched the book tighter. Only when they laughed did he relax, realizing their jest.

"Best leave the thievery to our burglar," Fili recommended, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder and chuckling. "As I hear, she is already quite experienced." There was something of a playful challenge in his eyes that Eda returned.

"I wouldn't know of any thievery," she paused and her lips tilted into a smirk. "I just happen to pick up things people leave behind."

"And by 'behind' she means anything left in the open," Fili said to Kili, who snickered. Eda felt a surge of pride and her smirk widened before she adopted an innocent expression.

"I don't know, Master Fili." Her fingers pulled a thick metal clasp from her pocket. In the firelight, the dark metal sparked with glimmers of red. Fili's eyes shot wide and he grabbed his cloak, which had been previously resting as a pillow near Eda's hip. "Did you not mean to leave this behind?" Her fingers tingled with the energy coursing her veins. He snatched the clasp back amongst the roaring laughter of Kili and pointedly tucked it into his pocket, shooting her a look of light-hearted reproach and amusement. She didn't feel any remorse for the loss; her fingers grazed items simply for the thrill of the sneak, the snatch. Escaping without an eye knowing.

"You are a thief!"

She scowled lightly. "I am not a thief." She grinned smugly. "I'm a collector." It hardly sufficed for a cover and the group, Ori included, tried to keep their laughs low. Kili made a mildly dramatic show of checking his things for any missing items.

"She's as bad as Nori," he jested.

"No one's as bad as Nori," Fili said almost proudly. Ori carefully tucked his notebook into his coat, tucking it near his chest, and shuffled to lie on the ground. Eda considered it a que for their own time to sleep, but neither Fili nor Kili appeared to share this sentiment. As the young dwarf's breathing slowed and steadied, they dropped to whispers.

"Uncle said you're a smuggler, too," Fili stated. "What do you smuggle?" 'That's quite a diplomatic approach,' she thought sarcastically. For his part, the brunette brother seemed equally curious but more uncomfortable with the question. Eda caught a flicker of something in his expression that tasted of distrust. 'Smart enough to recognize the difference between genial exchanges and trust,' she reasoned. Fili mistook her silence for insult and hurried to soften the question. "I know he also said you haven't stolen anything from the Dwarves in the Blue Mountains or our kin." Kili's expression turned to one more at ease—though still not entirely trusting.

Eda never considered for even a fraction of a second to explain or repute the statement. Supply and demand dominated her life as a small-time smuggler, and, while valuable, dwarf jewels were never an issue of demand. She hardly thought it would swell their dwarf chests with pride, however, to know that she didn't consider stealing their relics or jewels to be worth her effort, even if it was a simple explanation: high risk, low reward, high pay, low demand. Of course, if that changed at any point...

On the other hand, issues of medicines, raw materials, food could be sold in almost any town without people wondering—or caring—where the goods came from. And smaller trinkets like anonymous jewelry—to either resell or melt for metal.

Kili waited with more curiosity than he knew he had for the realm of the shady. He believed in honour and courage, both of which felt directly challenged by the existence of this woman. At the same time, he didn't feel uneasy around her; he had always thought illegal characters simply grew from defective personalities. Evil, in a word. Corrupt, a bad egg. As such, he had always imagined it would be easy for him to pick them out if he ever met one. But he had met one, and he would never had known had his uncle not revealed it.

She shrugged, having finally seemed to resolve her thoughts. "I deal most in daily things people need but can't always get themselves." His eyebrows furrowed. If it was daily or rudimentary, then why wouldn't people have them? How would a smuggler or thievery come into the matter? Anything his kin needed, they made or bought fairly, and Kili never felt need for something beyond his reach. The idea rang foreign in his ears.

He found his eyes locked on hers when her voice pulled him from his thoughts. "There come times when people find items harder to come by. Medicines, plants, metals, weapons. Not everyone can rely completely on self and kinship cannot make resources grow from the ground. At that point, it is a matter of getting items into the paying hands."

"And when it is a want but not a need and the objects are less charitable in nature?" Kili studied her carefully, almost stiffly. Thorin had said she hadn't stolen from dwarves, but she had mentioned weaponry. Surely dwarf weapons and armour, perhaps even mithril, made its way through her hands. While dwarves were protective of their culture and proud of their skills, they wouldn't snob work in smitheries even if their works would go to human hands—Thorin himself had worked in human villages once Erebor was stolen. Yet the idea of stealing the goods to resell without conscience made his fingers twitch angrily.

Her eyes turned to the dozing fire. "It's not my place to decide who morally deserves to buy—nor is it my interest so long as they can pay." Fili shifted and rested a hand on his brother's forearm. Their eyes met for just a brief second, but Kili knew his brother wanted him to sleep before things went towards a messy quarrel of values. More the woman's apparent lack of. When he did not move to lie down, Fili squeezed his arm and tugged.

The woman gave him a small smile as if she didn't feel a guilt in the world for her words. Contrary to his brother's worry, Kili didn't feel excessively angry—which came as a surprise to even himself. As he lay down, he tried to pick apart the knot of thoughts. But like a knot made of a thousand strings, he found himself grasping hopelessly at fragments he couldn't untangle. There certainly was some hint of anger. Distrust, too. Indignation and pity, disgust. But the feelings only simmered as if her frank words had sprayed water over the kindling; she hadn't spoken proudly or defensively. If anything, her voice held hardly any emotion at all. Perhaps that's what unnerved him the most.

* * *

"Come on, Gloin, make your decision already!" Bofur pestered loudly. He jabbed the red-headed dwarf sharply, earning him a reproachful harrumph.

"Nay," he said. The company stood in the high sunshine of the Shire. A handful of members put the remaining bags and provisions on the ponies while the others mounted and continued a boisterous gambling session. Eda swung her back onto the back of her pony and started to wrap it securely in thick twine. The morning sun was bright but still young, dusting their faces in warmth and giving promising kisses of the warmth to come. Throin waited silently on his horse, and the woman thought she detected a note of annoyance at their good-natured delay.

"And you?" She glanced up at Bofur as he sat happily in his saddle. Swinging into her saddle, she shook her head.

"I don't gamble, Master Bofur," she said simply and set to gathering her reigns. "I hardly have money 'nough without simply giving it away." She laughed in her breath.

"Your loss, lassie," he grinned around his pipe and turned to Oin on his other side.

"What 'bout you, Oin?" He shouted. "Yay or nay on the hobbit?" The dwarves chuckled and Thorin kicked his steed to a steady walk with the rest of the company following.

"What was that?" Oin leaned precariously in his saddle in his attempt to put his trumpet closer to Bofur. Bofur reached out and grabbed the metal's edge, shouting again, "Yay or nay on the hobbit?" Eda nudged her new pony to fall in line and left the betting behind.

* * *

"Miss Eda." She looked up from her horse's mane to the familiar face with happily crinkled eyes. "I don't believe we were properly introduced." He gave her a pointed look, and her attention caught up.

"O-oh, yes," she fumbled and cleared her throat. "I am Miss Eda. You are…?"

Gandalf nodded his head. "Gandalf the Grey."

"A wizard?! Oh, golly!" She couldn't resist the theatrical exuberance and nearly broke into laughter at the mirth in his eyes.

"Yes, I do believe I am," he replied evenly. "And you are a woman of many professions, I hear." He tilted his head to peer more sternly. Eda thought of the way her teacher would look at her after catching another stolen trinket in her desk. A sort of amused all-knowing—not necessarily surprised but with a touch of insult that they were, in the case of her teacher, once again in the same situation.

"I like to consider them all of one profession. They are all a matter of simple delivery." Hunting wood to plate. Smuggling goods to paying hands. "Some may say the morals are questionable, but I am sure if you asked enough, a deer would tell you I stole his mother away with my arrows." His lips twitched, and she let out a more honest, defiant grin. "I find life is all a matter of perspective."

"And the best perspective to have is that none matter?" Gandalf challenged calmly.

She opened her mouth to answer when a faint voice stretched through the trees. Another shout and the group came to a collective still. Eyes turned back to a hasty figure.

"I signed it." The hobbit held up the trailing piece of paper triumphantly. Balin took it for a close inspection before announcing his approval.

"Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield." Several dwarves let out hoots of happiness. Gandalf himself looked unsurprised but respectfully happy. Eda imagined him gloating on the inside. Thorin glanced at her with something she couldn't begin to read but turned his horse to the front. "Give him a pony." And at that, they set off again.

Immediately, Eda fell back, waiting for the dwarves to finish positioning him in the saddle before she dropped into line beside him. The hobbit showed little recognition of her presence as he stared at the reins in his hands then at the ambling animal. Luckily it seemed to require little guidance from him. She cleared her throat.

"I-uh-I wanted to apologize," she stammered. "For…well, for lying to you yesterday." In the hurry of signing a contract, meeting the company—more or less—and Bilbo's departure for bed, she had completely forgotten about making right by the Halfling. Seeing him raised a wave of guilt in her stomach that she wanted to subside as soon as possible. "I shouldn't have done it, but it was…" she couldn't think of a reasoning. For truthfully speaking there existed none that would make her somehow less culpable for lying and taking advantage of him. She shifted uncomfortably in her saddle and felt her palms warm. 'Apologizing couldn't honestly make me sweat,' she thought incredulously. 'I've apologized before. There was…"her brain racked for the last time "I'm sorry" came into her vocabulary.

"It's okay," the hobbit cracked in. "I suppose it is all part of the adventure, now." He smiled good-naturedly, and Eda felt a twinge of guilt before smiling back. 'Are all hobbits this wholesome?' she looked around at the company. 'Or perhaps everyone is, and I'm simply the odd one here.' At that point, Gandalf joined them, and Eda spurred her horse ahead to give them privacy.

"Pay up, Nori!" Eda ducked as a bag of coins sailed past her. 'Yes,' she mused, 'this will likely be an adventure.'


	8. Feathers

A/N: And then my timely update schedule was thrown out the window. So sorry! I only have a few days left in my village, then I will hope to make it more consistent once I have internet access (I am at the mountain pass right now in where I am writing). Let me know what you think, and thank you for reading. :)

Disclaimer: I disclaim everything you recognize.

* * *

Thorin made the decision for camp when they reached a rocky overhang. The sun had yet to disappear when Thorin abruptly stopped and dismounted. Every dwarf had a job, and Thorin listed them out curtly. Eda herself earned the task of finding food, and she resisted rolling her eyes when she heard Thorin tell his younger nephew, "Make sure she doesn't bring us any trouble."

"I am such a risk, of course," she muttered more to her pony than anyone else. The animal gave no recognition of her words and anxiously tugged at his reins, eager to rest and munch. "I appreciate the comfort," she shot back before removing his bridle and tying him up by the others. Gandalf stepped next to her with his horse following. "Why am I somehow the risk when the dwarf is sure to make more noise?" She knew he could hear her but hadn't expected a response. Spending time alone in the woods had loosened her mouth that she would frequently speak to the animals, plants or weather if such a thought struck her.

"You would do well to keep from judgment," Gandalf reprimanded softly. The brunette dwarf was striding over to them, his bow and quiver slung over his back and an anxious expression on his face.

"Hurry while we still have light," he said, and Eda hurried to untie her own bow and arrows from her pony.

Around them dwarves had set to their chores—some with more bickering than others—and the two archers disappeared into the trees. Gandalf's words threw her own back in her face. The dwarf made little noise and moved purposefully through the trees.

"I wasn't aware dwarves hunted," she muttered more to herself and the trees. He hushed her nonetheless. "Or knew how to be quiet." His eyes darted to her with a flat look of exasperation. She could practically read the thoughts by his face and, unfortunately for him, it sparked something of a malevolent amusement in her. 'I wonder how long it would take for him to speak,' she kept this sentence silent as they pushed through a thicket. As she opened her mouth to test the waters, the sound of a cracking twig tugged her ear. Silently, an arrow steadied in her hand, and she crouched to the ground. It was only at that moment that she realized how little light they had to hunt with. A mist of golden haze stretched over the tree tops, but the shadows grew steadily colder as the sun pulled away. All thoughts of goading the young dwarf fell from her thoughts like downed birds. Fewer animals roamed at this hour. Scarce light left them no room for error but little chance of success.

'I hate nighttime,' she pricked her ears at the snap of another twig and some rustling leaves in the distance. Neither of them breathed let alone spoke, and she felt Kili's hand on her arm, pulling her attention to him long enough that he could silently point to their west. Her footsteps landed softly on the dirt, and she crept steadily closer when she heard a hoot behind her. It was her turn to grab Kili's arm and she wordlessly mimed they should split. Again, another hoot of an owl and the recognition spread on his face. She couldn't resist.

'Bet?' she mouthed with a devilish grin. Kili looked torn between incredulously rolling his eyes and ignoring her all together. 'I'll take that as a yes,' she thought, turning quietly on her heel to follow the owl's call.

* * *

"It appears to me that you have yourself two burglars, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf declared from his place by the growing fire. Bombur sat beside him, working on filling a pot with vegetables for which Kili or Eda's meat would made to a hearty stew. Thorin didn't respond. The instant the hobbit had handed over his signed contract, Thorin's mind began to churn, trying to decide on his next move. Two burglars exceeded his need as well as his patience to have strangers in his company. Thorin felt inclined to send the woman away in favour of Gandalf's choice. Even if he doubted the hobbit heavily, he trusted—and respected-the wizard's opinion more than he would ever acknowledge. That didn't necessarily mean he would always follow it, as they both knew well, but it gave the hobbit a distinct lead over the woman despite her better skills for the job.

"Neither of them are ideal," Dwalin gruffly said from his spot in the fire's warmth. "But a woman is always more trouble than help in battle and travel."

"If you believed women to be such a hindrance, why would you select her for the task?" Gandalf replied almost sharply. "If I recall correctly, she is not without merit." At this, he gave a pointed look at the king. They had yet to discuss Thorin's decision for her to track and report on the wizard. While both understood it had been little more than a test for the woman's skills, Thorin knew Gandalf would not let the incident slide without some discussion. He was hoping to make it as brief as possible.

Balin brought up the other, prickly issue that stalled Thorin's thinking. "She also signed a contract."

"Yes, same as the hobbit, and yet all contracts speak of a fourteenth's share of the treasure. Tell me," Thorin spoke carefully to his trusted friend. "How does a treasure split fourteen ways amongst fifteen people?" The dwarves hummed, clearly as stuck as himself, and none could offer a solution.

"Perhaps you are making the mistake of assuming all parties will take their full portion," Gandalf suggested.

"And why would that be a mistake to think?" Thorin replied shortly.

"Because not all the creatures of the earth have the same lust for gold as dwarves." Gandalf's answer came swiftly and sharply. "You would be well off to remember that there are other things in this world that people love." He took a long drag from his pipe and muttered angrily, "and a great deal of them hold more value."

Thorin frowned and turned away from the wizard. Gandalf's words struck hard and precise, exactly as the wizard had expected them to. Thorin could still see his grandfather's wide-eyed enthrallment in his mind, remembering the hours the King had lost simply staring at the piles of wealth. It had felt like watching his grandfather's mind draining, his thoughts narrowing to those of his jewels and the need for more. He'd almost lost his very life for it, Thorin remembered, for the dwarf felt certain that his grandfather would have leapt into the gold, even with the dragon in its midst, had Thorin not pulled him away.

"Oh, come off it," a voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Thorin turned to see Kili and Eda had returned. The woman handed Bombur a dead owl while his nephew looked put out. "I didn't sabotage you."

Kili didn't appear to see it that way. "The noise of your kill scared off the deer," he accused, and Thorin realized the young dwarf had come back empty-handed.

"Then you should have hurried to kill first," she replied easily, taking a seat beside Bombur and putting a pot of water over the fire. Her smirk faltered at his flat stare and crossed arms, and she sighed, "what were you going to do with a deer anyway? Carry it with you through the mountains for the next few days? We never could have finished it in a night."

Kili let out a short sniff of disapproval before joining his brother's side. "You've clearly never seen Bombur eat." Silence followed.

Thorin decided it was best to take the opportunity and directed his attention to Eda. "With the addition of the hobbit, your services are no longer required." Her head jerked and her eyes snapped to his. He could read the mixed relief and disappointment in her hazel eyes as easily as if she'd written it across her face.

"Thorin, are you serious?" Gandalf interrupted. When Thorin refused to acknowledge the wizard's words—or even his existence—he heard the man storm off, uttering complaints as he left.

"Where is Gandalf going?" the hobbit's voice broke in as he returned to their camp.

"Don't worry, laddie," Balin answered. "He'll be back."

At this point, Eda's expression furrowed, as if the delay had given her time to think. "I signed a contract, though," she said. She didn't dare glance at Fili, terrified he would choose to side with his uncle and reveal her illiterate secret. Even if she couldn't read it, she had still signed it, so she knew in some way she was bound to the company. However, she also knew that being unable to read meant she did not know the technicalities of the contract; technicalities like being released from the contract, for instance. Her stomach churned and the palms of her hands felt warmer than usual.

Her entire day of riding with the company—with the exception of small conversations with the friendlier of dwarves, Gandalf and the hobbit—had been spent thinking of the treasure. More precisely, thinking of what her family could do with it. Her parents could buy a new bed or a new stove. If her imaginings of the wealth proved true, they could simply move to a better home. Her brother could continue studying, and her sister could have the largest family in the whole town yet never want for food. Her cousin could…and so on had traveled her mind while her body traveled east. Most resounding, echoing in the excited beat of her heart, was the realization that she could also live comfortably. She could cease smuggling and trapping if she so chose—though leave the light thievery for a hobby, of course. She could live with her family and raise nieces and nephews while perhaps starting even her own home.

That fortune promised of a chance at freedom.

She would be damned if she let it slip away without a fight.

"We are willing to release you form contract without repercussions." Something in the wording made Eda pause. Contracts were two ways. Always someone who initiated and the person who signed. But dwarf contracts were details and reputably precise, fair. His words made her dare to guess that such an option required both party's consent. If she was wrong, she ran the risk of accidentally exposing her ignorance. But if she was right…She drew in a shaky, silent breath.

"And what will you do when I say I am unwilling to consent to such a release?" Her breath hitched in the silent seconds that followed. Her fingers tingled anxiously. His expression darkened, and she let out the breath in a small hiss. 'Thank Valar,' she praised silently.

"I could easily send word for your goods and secrets to be revealed," his tone mirrored his expression, and she felt her resolve falter from fear. 'Pause,' she told herself. She stretched forward a hand, trying to ignore its subtle tremor, and pulled the pot of hot water off the fire. Bombur dropped the bird into the water and the two of them began to pluck its feathers.

The familiarity calmed her nerves, and she kept her eyes on her task when she dared ask, "And when those hunting me draw eyes to your company traveling east?" The air stilled but for the crackling of the fire.

"You would dare to endanger this company with your stubbornness?" 'A dwarf lecturing me on stubbornness,' she thought darkly. Beside her, Bombur had ceased moving, and she could feel heated eyes on her from nearly every member. Her fingers continued to nimbly tug the feathers from the bird's skin. Never once did her eyes dare away from the task. She feared she would crumple if faced with a wall of angry expressions—her resolve wobbling dangerously already. She hated confrontation almost as much as she hated the idea of walking away from all that gold.

"It would be your stubbornness to oust me that would reveal my secrets to the world," she answered quietly. "I signed a contract." The details of the owl's feathers blurred in her intense concentration. Somewhere she knew her fingers and the feathers were different, but to her wide eyes and distracted mind, her tan skin melded with the rusted brown feathers. She fumbled, and the owl's body floated in an unpleasant contortion within the pot.

"All threats aside," Balin attempted peacefully. "Lassie, we cannot split the treasure fourteen ways if there are fifteen members. With two burglars instead of one, it is precisely that problem. Even if you came, you would not get any monetary reward at the end." Her face fell to the internal crack of her heart. 'But why I am the one who should lose?' she wanted to ask. As it was, the words caught in her throat with a jagged mess of distress. 'What about the plans I had?' To return to the same work from which she'd come, to scrape livings from deer tracks and stolen goods, when she had come so close to a fortune…She felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes and tried furiously to swallow back the words. If they cared so little as to simply send her off once they no longer needed her, surely they would not care even if they knew why she felt so determined to join them. Her hands shook more fiercely as they hung in the air. She dove back for the owl, her breathing coming in shallow as it felt like she was drowning in open air.

"Excuse me." Her fist had gripped a handful of feathers when the polite voice piped up. "What if we share our fourteenth?" Without warning, her head snapped up, eyes searching for the speaker. Bilbo sent her a calm, kind glance and stepped closer to the group.

"You're sayin' you'd split your half with the lady?" Bofur asked incredulously. "That'd give you a, what. fifteenth of the treasure?"

"I don't know that your math is correct on that," Bilbo muttered loudly, placing his hands on his coat lapels and rocking on his feet. "But yes, yes, I would." A few of the dwarves made noises of disbelief but Bilbo carried on. "Look, I might not even make it to the mountain, and even if I did, there's no knowing if I will…well," he stammered. "Well, that I will, make it near the dragon." Eda felt a ghost of a smile to one side of her mouth at the way his voice cracked. Even if he felt too overwhelmed to admit the potential of death, she found his courage warming and inspiring. "Having two burglars might be the best thing for you. If one of us is, uh, gone—for one reason or another." His rocking increased, and he appeared visibly driven to find another conversation. " And I wouldn't know what to do with a fourteenth of your treasure in any case. A fifteenth would suit me just fine." He nodded definitively with an air of being quite satisfied with himself.

"I think that would be most agreeable," Gandalf's deep voice swelled around them. The wizard appeared out of the early night, and stood beside the Halfling. The dwarf's attentions turned to woman sitting with a dead bird half-naked in her hands. She nodded curtly without a word and resumed stripping the feathers. "So it's settled," Gandalf stated, though the company felt anything but.


	9. Beliefs

Disclaimer: None of it's mine except for Eda.

* * *

"The stubbornness of dwarves could put a mountain to test," Eda found herself mumbling sourly. In the days following their first night, the dwarves treated Eda to a stony wall of silence and brusque orders. At first she hadn't thought it strange—after all, she had kept to herself rather successfully the first day—but it steadily started to grate her nerves like itchy wool to her skin.

The first day of silence had passed easily enough. Her time alone in woods adapted her to converse with her pony instead, but the hours of the following day trudged slowly by. Traveling alone and traveling in imposed isolation steadily differentiated, her taste buds coming to find the bitterness in the latter. Her mood soured, and it only worsened the third day when they woke to dark clouds fat with looming rain.

By the time their ponies set off in a line through the forest the rain had started to spill over their hunched shoulders. Her hair quickly drenched even with her hood, and her bangs clung to her forehead with ferocity. The only solace came from realizing that, at the least, everyone felt a similar misery. As well, they only spoke when absolutely necessary—and those who considered complaints necessary were quickly threatened or cursed into grumpy submission. For even an artificial moment, her isolation disappeared in the communal discontent. Near midday, Dori chanced asking Gandalf for his aid with the rain only to receive a curt and swift rebuke.

"Are there any?" Eda stole a look around the brim of her hood at the hobbit. His soaked appearance and slumped posture gave the impression he had somehow shrunk, but his eyes narrowed carefully at the wizard.

"What?" Gandalf called back.

"Other wizards," the hobbit clarified.

"There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Sarumon the white. Then there are the two blues." Gandalf gave them a rather lazy look. "You know I've rather quite forgotten their names." Eda felt the spark of amusement somewhere deep beneath her soaked skin and shivering fingers.

"And who is the fifth?"

"That would be Radagast, the brown."

"Is he a great wizard or is he more like you?" The woman swallowed the twitch of a smile as Bilbo leaned forward in his saddle, squinting through the sheets of rain.

This prompted Gandalf to look back before replying, "I think he is a very great wizard—in his own way. He's a gentle soul, prefers the company of animals to others. Keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the east. And a good thing, too, for always will evil look to find a foothold in this world." Eda blamed the shiver upon soggy clothing but could not resist peeking at Bilbo. His eyes caught hers, and they shared no expressions—for how does one react to such an idea? No one spoke in the wake of the wizard's words. The muddled music of horse hooves on wet ground and raindrops in the canopy swelled around their ears.

With no sun by which to accurately guess the time, Eda could only make rough estimates. Her fingers drummed on the brim of her saddle while she tried to pass the time, tried to convince herself time had not run away and left them in a ceaseless eternity of water-logged meanderings. It nevertheless felt like it until Bofur happily pointed to the sky.

"They're brighter," he swore by it, and every pair of eyes dared to look upwards in hope. Indeed, the clouds felt steadily further off and lighter, as if they were shedding the last of their weight. The raindrops slowly shrank to pinpricks before disappearing all together. Her face cracked into a smile like it had forgotten how to do so, and she could hear happy grumbles swelling in the group.

"Now we simply need some sun to warm—" she had started to speak to the nearest dwarf, Gloin, yet found herself cut short when the dwarf abruptly spurred his pony ahead without a single look back. Her confusion searched for an explanation but found only a wall of unyielding dwarf backs before her and indecipherable dwarf faces behind her.

"Did you anger them?" Bilbo whispered to her left. Her expression flattened and her posture scrunched like a crumpled piece of parchment. 'Dwarves,' she cursed.

"You would think I had cut off all their hair for the way they act," she complained to the general vicinity.

"They are simply hostile because of your threat the other night," said Gandalf from his place in front of her. 'The other night…' She tried to recall the conversation, her mind snagging on memories of her trembling hands and owl feathers. But she did remember the comment. Something along the lines of bringing eyes upon Thorin's travel. Of course the meaning being, if they revealed her dealings, she still would not leave, and those hunting her would find the dwarves as well. Even if her hunters left the dwarves in peace, the news of the travel would find flight in gossip. Inevitably, it would reach someone who would care.

"Tell me, Miss Eda, what is one of the most dangerous things in the world?"

"An orc with unfortunate flatulence." He opened his mouth to reply, from the look on his face to reprimand her sarcasm, but she kept going. "A goblin with a tickling fetish. Hungry cannibals."

"Eda—"

"A dragon with uncontrollable sneezing." He cleared his throat pointedly, and she yielded. "Fine," she sighed. "What?"

"A person who doesn't believe in anything," Gandalf skewered her on his gaze. The world felt abruptly too cramped, too small, as if the trees bent towards her while the sky crashed down on her head. "Tell me, what do you believe in?"

Just ahead of the grey man, Eda could see a twist of a cloak and a young dwarf looked back, his eyes as dark and challenging as the question. 'Just the rain,' Eda tried to convince herself as another shudder stirred under her skin.

* * *

By the time Thorin called to set up camp, Eda felt the beginnings of a headache spreading roots in the front of her head. The sun stretched out warmly, the briefest of apologies for such a miserable day. Eda arrived last at the site, and dismounted quickly. Her ears perked to the sound of Gandalf's angry voice. She just barely managed to step out of his way as he came storming down the incline and disappeared from view. Eyebrows raised yet she kept silent. "Seeing as no one would answer even if I did ask," she cooed darkly to her pony.

Ever since the first night, she had been sent out alone to hunt. Part of her wondered if Thorin did it as a testament of faith in her ability to stay safe. A larger, more confident part of her said he was hoping she'd get lost or killed. That afternoon went the same as all the others when Thorin ordered her to head out. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the smooth wood of her bow, and she shouldered her quiver before dashing off without a word.

It felt like entering a sanctuary. Within the safety of the trees, the dwarves' voices disappeared, and the late afternoon sun shone a warm haze. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs till they overflowed, and she let out a languid exhale. Her seedling headache calmed just a little—enough to give her hope. An arrow perched silently on her hand, ready, and she crept through. 'This is what I have,' she thought to herself over continuously relaxing breaths. The sunlight, the trees and the damp leaves on the ground. The thumps of rabbits' feet like the beat of her own heart. 'If you call it a belief.'

The sun dipped low by the time she knocked back the arrow, the feathers ghosting her cheek. Another breath and another release. The short whimpering of a dying animal, and she scampered forth. The rabbit lay on its side, its eyes wide and panicked; her arrow protruded from its side, just behind its front leg, and while clearly draining away, its legs continued to twitch and jerk, searching for the ground, for escape, for life. Her eyebrows knit carefully. A tanned hand drew out a short, slick knife and sliced through the animal's neck with practiced precision. As blood piled out in waves and the animal's eyes glazed over, she held her hands in her lap and waited silently. Her eyes closed as she hummed soft and low in her throat.

"Thank you." Her father hadn't always taught her to appreciate the kills. Most of the time, he considered it too sentimental for a world such as theirs. But Eda couldn't help it at times. Times such as this one where she felt solace and comfort in the land she hunted. "All for a simple question," she murmured bleakly. "If father could see me now." She tilted the animal's head back to open the wound further and lifted the body by the hind legs. In silence, she removed her arrow, cleaned it on her trousers and returned it to her quiver.

They didn't trust her because she didn't have morals—according to their standards, anyway. She had threatened their company with discovery—and possibly death—and so she was tolerated to stay in exchange for silence. Eda knew it couldn't last, however. It would only take a matter of time and worn patience before the dwarves found some method to oust her. Preferably not a violent method, but she couldn't feel certain.

"I could always lie," she spoke to the rabbit. Like nearly everyone else that day, it did not respond. She sighed heavily and sat morosely on the forest floor. "Or perhaps tell the truth. But what would I say? 'Don't worry. I was only kidding about ruining your plans. It's only for want of a better life that I am so determined to join your quest for treasure.'" She groaned. "I don't see what it matters, either. It's not as if I am the only one here for riches." Her mood significantly curdled as she sulked, and her headache sapped on the frustration. For all the attempts of deep, calming breaths, Eda found little peace. Cursing the dwarves and herself, she grabbed the catch and marched back to camp.

"You're late." Thorin barked the moment she appeared. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, and she nearly threw the rabbit at Bombur's feet.

"I don't recall a deadline," she bit back despite herself. Her headache started a ferocious drumbeat against her skull.

"I will not—" she turned away and darted for the trees. The murderous look in his eyes had awoken her sense with a terrified jolt. If he started again on trying to be rid of her, she wasn't sure she could hold out. And she must hold out. She darted between tree trunks and leapt brambles and fallen trunks, desperate to find somewhere just far enough away to be safe. Her breathing came jagged and infrequently till she stopped in the shadow of an old oak. The world returned to her with bird whistles and the subtle, ubiquitous murmuring of wind across tree leaves.

"That was mature," she choked out crossly. The sun had made its farewell sometime during her run, and she closed her eyes for just a second to gather herself. Night brought cooler air, yet it still felt pleasant and damp. Her gut wretched at the thought of returning while her feet made decisive steps back the way she had come. Though for all her luck, she thought darkly, they'll have taken the opportunity to disappear.

* * *

Eda hadn't truly expected an empty camp when she finally broke the forest edge. Immediately, her stomach lurched and her heart plummeted in fear they actually had left. Only when she caught a glimpse of firelight did her fingers stop twitching anxiously. The fire simmered under the remnants of a stew. Bowls rested on the ground in varying states of completion.

Without a word, Eda hurried to her pack and pulled out an extra knife. She grabbed a piece of wood from the pile and held it to the flames. Dried kindling and some calculated breaths helped the piece catch fire. Eda held her impromptu torch carefully and stepped around the camp, her eyes searching the numerous tracks on the ground. Boot prints stamped on top of each other. "A rush," she whispered. Tracks lead to the horses tied nearby while others thundered into the forest. She followed the ghosts, keeping low to the ground.

The fire of her torch dimmed, and she scrambled to follow the direction. Luckily, the dwarves had hardly aimed to hide. Broken branches littered their path. She thrust the log into the soft ground, smothering the last of the fire, and stood completely still.

A cacophony had erupted in the distance to her south. The twigs whipped her face as she dashed towards the sound. Just outside the reach of the firelight, she skidded to a stop, her heart seizing in her chest. The cries were battle cries—mixed, more or less, with the furious and pained yelps from the massive trolls. From her place in the shadows, Eda could see the fight unfolding. Three trolls, each more grotesque than the last, yet stubbornly impervious to death as the dwarves continued to hack and swing at every available moment. And suddenly it stopped. Eda blinked and squinted at the figure clutched between two of the trolls.

"Bilbo." Her voice trembled and shot louder than she had anticipated. Luckily, Kili had spoken at the same time. Unfortunately, that same dwarf also appeared to recognize a part of the sound was not his own. She froze as his eyes searched the land. They landed on her. For what felt like minutes, they simply stared at each other, neither quite sure what to do.

"Lay down your arms!" One of the trolls demanded. Kili's attention snapped back to the hobbit. "Or we'll rip 'is off." All Eda could see was the back of dwarf heads, and she felt terrified for it. Surely, they wouldn't let him die, she told herself nervously. It wasn't until she heard the clang of swords dropping that she felt her heart release. It seized right back, however, when the trolls lunged upon the group, each grabbing a dwarf and making work of shoving them into bags. Her mind started whirring through options, plans and prayers. At that moment, Kili's eyes had found her again. She couldn't help but feel his dark expression was seared into her mind as she took off into the forest.

* * *

Kili's anger threatened to boil over when the woman disappeared. While initially surprised to find her face hidden in the shadows, the shock had worn off in place of irritation. How long had she been hiding and why had she not come out to save Bilbo or help them? He felt his teeth grinding before a coarse, gruff hand seized him around the middle, bound his limbs in coarse twine and dropped him into a burlap bag. The strings fastened tight around his neck before the troll tossed him lackadaisically into the pile of his kin.

For those left, the trolls stripped their clothes and made a surprisingly professional practice of fastening them to a log. Two trolls held them suspended while the third arranged the spit and wheel.

"Place them gently," one of them ordered. "I don't want any bruising on my meat."

"What difference does it make?" The first one struck the questioning troll with a spoon, sending him whimpering to the side.

"You shut up and mind the fire," the first snapped. To the other, he said, "and keep them turning nice and slowly for an even roast." Every dwarf in a bag tried to fidget, searching for a way out. In the rush to gather the group, many had foregone their full gear in favour of a large, immediate weapon. They were all regretting such haste now.

"Don't bother cookin', 'em." Kili turned away from the trolls and tried his best to ignore the words. Thorin lay behind him, a dark, steady gaze on his face as he stared into some unknown distance. If it weren't for the restrained fidgeting, Kili would have thought his uncle had simply resigned to his fate as a troll feast. Yet Thorin's struggle gave his nephew strength and a great deal of hope—enough to continue his own, distinctly less secretive, fight for freedom. Somehow they would think of a way out, he thought confidently. The dwarves would not be so easily outdone, surely. He held to this hope as he tried to free his hands.

"Wait!" Bilbo shouted. "You are making a terrible mistake!" Dori yelled something about half-wits, but Kili heard grunts and shuffling above him. The hobbit hopped forward in his bag and stood before the trolls. "I meant with the seasoning."

"What about the seasoning?' One of the trolls challenged. Bilbo tried to shove his terror and disgust aside. His mind rushed to respond.

"Well have you smelled them? You're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up." The heap of wrapped dwarves started to agitate with indignant shouts.

"What do you know about cooking, dwarf?" Another troll spat. Bilbo hopped forward a few steps, trying to buy himself time while his mind scampered over options. The earlier troll was right in thinking dawn was near, but Bilbo couldn't be certain of exactly how far away it was—nor how much time it would take for it to reach them. He needed something that took time, something that would inconvenience them. If it happened to free someone from their sack for the briefest chance at escape, then that couldn't hurt either. But what exactly would do such a thing? He knew he had the trolls' attentions; one of them had bent close to him with an attentive curiosity. He could hear the rattling breaths through the thick throat and smell the creature's body like he'd washed in water of feces and rotted meat.

"The secret to cooking dwarf is, uhm." 'Come on now,' he thought sharply. 'Think!' The trolls started to pester, and he could feel his mouth fumbling words. "Is, uh. Yes, the secret is." He stared hard into the distance, his jaw slack. At last his mind clicked. "To skin them first!" Behind him, outrage broke out. Bilbo tried his best to ignore the threats hailing his way. 'Long time, tedious,' he reminded himself. Hopefully this would do the trick.

As the trolls debated the cooking suggestion, Bilbo took the moment to look around. Their weapons lay in a discarded heap on the other side of the fire—too far away to get to in time even if he'd had free hands. All of a sudden, one of the swords disappeared wordlessly into the bush. Bilbo blinked furiously. Higher up, a familiar form with a pointed hat flitted briefly into view then disappeared into the thicket. 'Gandalf,' the hobbit felt a swell of courage and relief. If he could only stall a little longer. But one of the trolls had lost his patience, and the dwarves shouted in a mix of horrified anger as Bombur was hoisted above a gaping mouth.

"N-not that one," Bilbo rushed. "He's infected!" The troll let out a cry of surprise.

"You what?"

"He's got worms in his, uh, tubes." It did the trick as Bombur came crashing to the ground—more specifically on top of his comrades. Bilbo seized the opportunity. "In fact they all have! They're infested with parasites! It's a terrible business. I wouldn't risk it. I really wouldn't." All his thrilled adrenaline evaporated at the boisterous protests behind him. Couldn't they shut up for just a moment? His expression soured, and he longed to kick all of them where they lay. Then a moment of silence before,

"I've got parasites the size of my arm!" And so came forth the most proliferate bodily confessions. Unfortunately, the trolls seemed suspicious of their abrupt turn, and Bilbo felt his mind grasping at ideas with less zeal. Surely Gandalf had a plan. When one of the trolls asked if they should simply release the company, Bilbo gave a small shrug and a blasé "well." A heavy hand shoved him roughly in the chest, and Bilbo indignantly squeaked out "ferret?" before Gandalf's voice swelled over the camp.

"The dawn will take you all!" He appeared with the sunlight at his back. Everyone, trolls included, squinted up at him.

"Who's that?"

"No idea."

"Can we eat him too?"

Gandalf raised his staff high and brought it down with a critical crack upon the rock. It split instantly, bathing them in fresh sunlight. Bilbo had never before felt so happy to feel sunlight on his face, and the camp erupted into cheers as the last centimeters of the trolls twitched into solid stone. Hardly a second had passed before the sack abruptly loosened and collapsed to a puddle of fabric around his feet. He turned to see the woman moving towards the dwarves hung over the fire.

Bilbo rushed to Gandalf who appeared out of the trees and smiled at him.

"I see you are making some new friends," the wizard jested. "I might recommend avoiding those who would try to eat you, however." Behind them, Bilbo heard grunts and a few curses as Eda worked through the ropes. Gandalf gestured to the fire, and the hobbit hurried to drown it in dirt. The dwarves dropped to the ground and made direct lines for their comrades. As Eda crouched down and started to cut through Fili's sack, Bilbo caught the glint of a dwarf sword upon her back. She had been the one in the bushes, he realized.

"Step away from my brother," Kili almost yelled. Freed from his own prison, the brunette dwarf nearly pushed the woman away from Fili, helping the blond to his feet himself. Her expression creased with something between hurt and annoyance.

"What is going on?" Thorin stepped in. The other dwarves stood silently. Each wore a different level of confusion.

"I saw this woman in the forest, hiding like a coward amongst the trees while we were tied up by the trolls." Kili said heatedly. He pointed a finger at her. "How long were you cowering in the shadows? I would wager you saw everything and never thought to help." Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her fingers curled into fists. "Yet here you are after we are saved. Perhaps you waited to see if we would die so you could travel to Erebor alone and steal our gold." He looked to his uncle. "Contract or no, this woman is a coward and untrustworthy, and she is unfit for our company."

Silence washed over the camp in the wake of his words. Amongst the anger churning her thoughts, his words rang in her ears. At some point during his tirade, her eyes had turned downwards and fixated upon the boot-prints in the ground. She tried to distract herself by putting names, faces, to the treads, but somehow his voice wormed past all her efforts. Several dwarves drilled heated stares into her. If he was right, Kili's anger was adequately placed. When she didn't speak up, the dwarves began to shift. Some anxiously, others angrily.

"What do—"

"Thorin, let us move elsewhere to discuss this," Gandalf suggested quickly. She moved stiffly behind the two males. Kili's eyes bore into her as he stomped behind her, clearly determined he should be involved in this discussion. Only a few meters away from the group, Eda felt her eyes finally lift up and meet Thorin's. His eyes were dark and guarded, and his mouth set in a grim line.

"Kili, I believe there's been a grave misunderstanding." All eyes turned to the wizard who leaned upon his staff. "Miss Eda did not abandon you nor sit idly in the shadows." She started to nervously stretch her fingers at her sides, using her thumb to crack first her pointer then middle, ring then pinkie finger. After the first round, they made no noise, but she continued anyway.

"I saw her in the trees." Kili shot her a dark look. "And I saw her run away."

"She ran to find me," Gandalf explained hurriedly. "If I remember correctly," he paused to look at Thorin, "she has tracked me before. When she saw I was not in the fray, she left to find me."

"Rather than fight," Thorin didn't say it as a question or challenge, but his eyes demanded an answer. She swallowed.

"I only heard the fight. By the time I arrived, you were throwing down your weapons." She shot a retaliatory, biting look at Kili. "If I rushed in on my own, what good would it do? Either Bilbo would have been hurt, or I would have faced three trolls alone. I made a a decision to leave and find help." She held Kili's gaze and practically glared at the dwarf. "And I stand by it."

* * *

I was quite nervous about this whole part. Hope you liked it.


	10. Choices We Make

A/N: Thank you to 19seventythree and sarah0406 for your support. Thanks to everyone who reads.

Disclaimer: I am not Tolkein, and I don't own The Hobbit.

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Eda walked paces on the ground, hands at her side and cracking her fingers anxiously. Someone uttered a harsh jibe about her wearing a track into the ground and ruining his nerves, but she didn't look up to see who. It didn't matter in any case, she figured. Her fate currently rested in Thorin Oakenshield's hands. The dwarf king and wizard stood further off to her east. Their backs faced her, only ratcheting her anxiety higher and quickening her pace until she felt nearly dizzy. The rest of the company had collected their weapons and clothes and waited for the two to return.

"That's mine." Eda spun and found herself facing Fili. His eyes were darkened by the same distrust as his brother. Her eyebrows knitted with confusion, and he pointed at her shoulder. "My sword." She had completely forgotten about the piece strapped loosely over her shoulder. Her mouth shaped an apologetic "oh" and she rushed to remove it. He took it silently, returning it to its sheath. As he turned to walk away, she felt her hand fist around a handful of his cloak.

"W-wait," she whispered. "C-can I speak with you?" He seemed less than inclined. "Just for a moment. I promise." His eyes racked over her face, her teeth biting nervously into her bottom lip and the stress peeling at her eyes. He nodded curtly and followed her to a private distance.

"I-I." She let out a frustrated sigh, shifting on her feet while a hand tugged her braid. Fili folded his arms and fixed her with a stare she promptly avoided. "Uh, I wanted to ask why you, uh, why you haven't told anyone I can't read…much."

His eyes held carefully, not yielding a syllable of his thoughts. He let her stew for a moment before replying curtly, "We made an agreement. Dwarves believe in honour and holding to our word. And a signed contract is binding even if the person cannot comprehend it." The words hit of a double meaning. Eda let out a shaking breath.

"Look, I didn't hide to watch you die," she rushed. "And I didn't mean to threaten your party like I did." She at last made eye contact and found his expression betraying curiosity. "I would never put my sins to another's throat." She made sure to hold his eye and speak with as much force as she could muster. "I made a mistake when I said it, I know, and I know you have no reason to trust me—especially given what I stand accused of. But I spoke from desperation, not malice. I was afraid of losing a share of the treasure…" Words ceased, and the pair studied each other cautiously. Fili's eyes flickered with something like disdain.

"Are riches all you think of?" Bewilderment clipped his words. Surely, as a dwarf, he understood the allure of gold and wealth, but that was not the only reason the company stood beside Thorin. And Fili knew if it came to all the gold in Erebor or the life of his fellows, he would readily watch every last gold coin disappear.

"My family cannot eat love nor buy clothes with hope," she replied honestly. "I-I may not have the same grand values as yourself or your kin. Perhaps my reasons for joining your company are less admirable." She drew in a breath. "But they are of no more ill-will or danger than the love of honour and kin." Her courage sparked. "When it comes to the very root, we are all driven by a love of home."

Fili nodded slowly. "You would have done better to make this explanation before the entire company," he remarked dryly. She couldn't help but laugh nervously.

"Perhaps I shall tell each of you individually. By the end, it could be quite poetic," she hazarded a joke to find his eyes lighting a little and the hint of a smile beneath his moustache.

"In that case, you must give your perfected rendition to Kili or Dwalin as both are convinced you are completely bereft of integrity." The words nearly gutted her though she knew she should have expected such. Even after Gandalf's explanation of her disappearance during the troll adventure, Kili retained his wariness of her. Eda didn't know whether to trust him to explain the situation honestly to the other dwarves—even if such an explanation would make a difference. Fili, she could tell, still didn't like her, but the hostility had receded, and she welcomed it like a strong fire in the midst of a northern winter.

"I can only hope Thorin will not tie me to a tree and leave me here," she replied. Humor did a poor job of covering the nerves in her voice and the way her eyes flickered.

"He wouldn't tie you to a tree," Fili assured her. "Someone would knock you unconscious and leave you on a doorstep." He gave her a guarded smile. "We aren't heartless."

"I'm leaving now," she announced flatly, though she smiled as she walked away. It felt like stretching her legs after a long, cramped sleep to speak to someone, anyone, and have them respond with any degree of cordiality. She knew Bilbo tried his best, but her dark mood towards the dwarves had made her less than appealing. Away from Fili's polite conversation, she met a crowd of skeptical stares.

"Where is Thorin?" She dared to ask. Balin let out a sigh, his hands clasped in front of his stomach.

"They have gone to the troll hoard," he replied. His voice contained neither malice nor warmth, but she followed the direction of his finger. The others had started in the same direction.

"Thank you," she murmured sincerely.

"You did right, lassie," Balin's voice stopped her short. "To get Gandalf. We know that." He cocked his head and shot her a piercing look. "But a right choice doesn't make a good person." Her heart's tempo jolted like a frightened hare. His eyes didn't show any hatred, pity, contempt, love or amusement. If anything, their frankness unnerved her more for it felt like he was looking, simply looking at her without any fog of subjectivity. He didn't give her a chance to respond and strode after the others. She stood alone in the woods with a question, no answer and the stark reality of the grave importance of her next move.

* * *

Though she would likely never know it, it was Gandalf's support that saved her from Thorin exiling her—by whatever verbal or physical means required. Once she had left them to privacy, it was Gandalf's insistence on trust that Thorin yielded. His words and no small manner of angry passion. He never answered Thorin when asked why he was so insistent on keeping her. He knew he could tell Thorin of their days spent together in the woods, to say he had seen her honesty and heard stories of her family—the people she valued—but to reveal another lie to the dwarf seemed most unwise—even if Gandalf hadn't sworn to secrecy.

He knew Kili's accusations rang strongly in Thorin's own thoughts. For such a small band of travelers, loyalty was supreme. For dwarves, especially, fealty and honor dominated their lives; for was it not in some part Thorin's pride and the kin's injured dignity that drove them to reclaim their home? From father to son, stories of their lost grandeur. Specifically for Thorin, Gandalf knew the dwarf king carried the history of his father and grandfather upon his shoulders. Yet it was never considered a burden by the dwarves. Only to Gandalf, who had to deal with the dwarf's stubborn grudges.

And so, for them to think they had someone in their midst who would readily abandon them—whether for personal safety or coin—struck like the gravest of dangers and insults. But Gandalf knew the woman had values, even if they did not flow from the same noble, historical tributaries as the dwarves. And they did not make her any less of value. If anything, the wizard felt they perhaps put her nearer to the dwarves than they or she could possibly ever realize.

When at last Thorin begrudgingly consented to keeping her, he and Gandalf had departed in search of the troll's hoard. A few of the dwarves accompanied them in, and others warily stood away from the putrid cavern. Again, Thorin's temper struck when he nearly threw down a beautiful elven sword for no crime other than the race of its creators. Gandalf barked harshly at him, his patience bearing thin, and watched with some self-satisfaction as the dwarf was forced to appreciate the blade.

Upon stepping back into the sunlight, Gandalf called Bilbo over to him. Thorin's earlier comment about the Halfling's use in battle had not gone unnoticed—even if Gandalf had been quick to defend the hobbit. He could not forget the way his stomach had seized when Eda had appeared behind him in the night, winded and wheezing as she struggled to shove out the words. "They're in danger." He had immediately returned with her, grateful he'd chosen to turn back earlier and was much closer to the camp than he'd been an hour previous. She tried to explain what little she knew between heaving breaths as they ran. All of Gandalf's mind focused on a curly-haired hobbit he had found in the Shire. He had never promised Bilbo would be safe. He knew no such promises could ever be made. Yet that didn't keep him from wanting to do everything within his power to keep Bilbo alive. Not only to keep his conscience from one more burden, but to keep one more good thing in the world.

And as he thought of what danger may come, he felt even more resolved in handing Bilbo the elven blade. Gandalf almost smiled softly at the hobbit's uncomfortable refusal. He had never expected Bilbo to welcome a sword; perhaps when he was younger, he would have brandished a wooden one in his forest adventures, but that was much different from unsheathing a real weapon.

"And I hope you never have to," he said gently, honestly. "But if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life but when to spare one." Bilbo looked lost for words. A shout of alarm pierced a hole in their silence, the following clamour running a serrated blade through to let fresh waves of apprehension upon them. Gandalf shouted for them to take up arms and stay together, hurrying forward whilst drawing his own sword. Yes, the world needed more good things.

* * *

"Who do you reckon he is?" Bofur chimed. All eyes followed the stout, peculiar fellow as he trailed Gandalf. It made for quite a sight, Gandalf's grey, lengthy stature beside the short man wrapped in brown and furs.

"Radagast the brown," Bilbo answered. "Gandalf told me earlier. He's a wizard." Several eyebrows shot up at the idea. Having seen the man's queer trick of dropping insects from his mouth, they felt inclined to doubt the man's sanity. The dwarves peeked down the hill at the pair before Thorin ordered them to prepare to leave. They scattered to their various chores; some collected their goods or organized their packs while Thorin sent Bifur and Ori to the horses.

A neat distance from the group, Eda crouched down by the sleigh. Her hand reached out, and she cooed softly. Radagast's rabbits were mammoth in comparison to her usual quarry, and she felt a child-like need to touch one. She had purposefully left her bow and arrow on a bed of moss atop a fallen tree trunk, in full view of the animals' keen eyes. Perhaps they didn't know the purpose of it, but she felt the gesture helped her feel better anyway. And something in their large eyes spoke of reckoning.

Her fingertips stilled several decimeters from one rabbit's nose. He twitched, standing on his hind legs and staring at her cautiously.

"Don't be afraid," she whispered. "I won't hurt you." She smiled. "I promise. And an Eda never breaks her promises." His large ears swiveled in her direction, but he didn't come closer. She took a small step forward, still hunched over her knees, and strained to ghost her fingers closer.

At that second, a howl cracked through the air. Eda shot straight up, thoughts of touching the gigantic rabbits gone like a wisp of smoke in a hurricane. She ran to her bow, grabbing it as she jumped over the fallen tree and bolted the short distance to the group. She broke into the diminutive clearing with barely a second to realize Kili's arrow pointed straight at her. Her legs gave out and she dropped to the ground, her mouth inhaling deep gulps of dirt and damp air. The howl of the warg shot through, and she glanced over her shoulder in time to see it crashing into a tree, an arrow buried in its skull.

"Warg scouts," Thorin declared, yanking his blade from a warg corpse. "Which means an orc pack is not far behind." Eda raised to her feet but felt like she'd somehow left all her organs on the ground. Bilbo beat her to it.

"Orc pack?"

"Who did you tell about your quest beyond your kin?" Gandalf strode up to Thorin.

"No one," declared the dwarf.

"Who did you tell?" Gandalf's voice raised with impatience. Thorin's vehemence matched.

"No one, I swear!" The dwarves all looked to Thorin for answers though he had none to give. "What in Durin's name is going on?"

"You're being hunted." Her chest could barely fill with air through her subtle trembling. 'Orc pack,' she thought. A traveler, she wasn't unaccustomed to danger or fights. But an orc pack. A pack hunting them. 'Being left on a doorstep sounds like a nice idea about now.'

"We need to get out of here."

"We can't!" It was Ori and Bifur scrambling into view. "We have no ponies. They bolted." Fili rushed to his uncle's side, Kili not far behind, both wearing looks of grim fortitude—although no small amount of uncertainty. Dwalin had taken to cursing, and Gloin had jumped down from his perch. Without any sense of where the pack was, making any decision of direction felt like a gamble with all their lives.

"I'll draw them off." It was Radagast who spoke up.

"These are Gundabad wargs!" Gandalf turned to his friend. "They will outrun you."

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits." The man's voice held gravity, and his eyes darkened with a sort of dark determination. "I'd like to see them try." For a second, the group felt a chance of hope—even if it still felt foolish at the sight of the man jumping on the back of his sleigh. Without a word, the brown wizard pulled away, disappearing into the thick green ocean of the forest. They all fell silent.

"Quick!" Gandalf broke into a run and everyone followed. More howls erupted, drumbeats to the morose song of their swift footsteps and rapid breathing. Fortune smiled upon them, however, as they breached the forest's edge without a single encounter. In the distance, they could hear Radagast's yells mingling under the warg snarls. They ran fast and low, weaving between the rocks and always taking a look around the corners. Radagast proved true to his pride; the wargs were fast, always within a competitive distance, but he and his rabbits dodged the jaws with daring and no short matter of skill.

Unfortunately, his wild paths often forced them to stop or back-track, and Eda felt heartily disoriented after their third turn-around. They ran over the open grass but diverted to hide against a rock when Radagast streaked across the horizon. Eda gulped down air, and she could hear Bilbo similarly heaving beside her. Everyone fell silent, though, the second they heard paws behind their head and a gut-wrenching growl. Thorin looked to his youngest nephew, and Kili nodded. It took only a matter of seconds for him to ready his arrow and step away from the rock. A single shot, and the air ricocheted with the furious howls.

Eda ducked as the warg came tumbling down over their heads. The orc leapt to his feet but was no match for the company's numbers nor fury.

"It made noise," breathed the woman in utter horror. Her eyes widened and one hand instinctively clutched her knife while the other grabbed Bilbo's hand. She took in air, at first willing her heart to calm then telling it to disappear all together. For now was not the time.

Growls, howls and battle cries exploded around them. Gandalf shouted what everyone thought. "Move. Run!" They took off. Subtly gave to the need for speed. They ran through the yellow grass with abandon. At every crest of a hill, Eda would hear someone shout the dreaded words "there they are!" and they would try for another course. Until the very last when everyone stopped. No one looked in the exact same spot, and yet everyone had the same view: wargs and orcs creeping closer. They were surrounded.

Kili shouted something, and Thorin yelled back to shoot them. It had come to it. Fighting. Nowhere left to run. Eda sheathed her knife and removed her bow, knocking back an arrow before her nerves could catch up. Her first arrow caught a warg in the eye, and it crumpled.

'It's hunting,' she told herself. Her heartbeat measured her breaths, and her fingers tightened around her bow. 'Hunting.' Another arrow and an orc fell from his disgusting mount. But somewhere she knew it wasn't. Rabbits didn't hunt you back. And deer didn't kill you when you ran out of arrows. She took a step back and fired an arrow at the closest warg. Yet they kept coming; it was like trying to fight a tide.

"He's abandoned us!" Dwalin's voice rang out gruffly.

"Hold your ground!" Another arrow, another breath. Her fingers shook as she reached into her quiver. How many arrows did she have left? Her heart skipped and thudded to a stony stop when they felt nothing for seconds. Then a fistful of feathers and she yanked one out. 'Don't count,' she ordered. "Shoot." She breathed out and let the arrow fly into the chest of the nearest orc.

"This way, you fools!" Her eyes darted back to the familiar grey and pointed hat. The dwarves needed no encouragement and instantly ran for the rock. Eda let off another arrow and followed suit, stopping only when Thorin yelled out a familiar name.

"Kili! Run!" She skidded to a stop, her eyes searching the tall grass until they landed on his form. Behind him, the wargs had started to run.

"Kili! Watch out!" She shouted before loosing an arrow. He cut to the side as the arrow shot past, imbedding itself in a warg's throat. With the other orcs a safe distance behind, she ran to the rock and dropped into the darkness.


	11. Second Chances

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Tolkein.

Note: I am uploading this using my phone because internet is out. I will correct the past chapter once I can.

This chapter contains description of skinning and preparing an animal. You have been forewarned. :)

* * *

Never in her life would Eda have imagined hiding in a cavern with thirteen dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard listening blindly to a battle thundering above. Yet she found herself exactly there and a second wish for a quiet home passing her mind. Maybe they were right to send her off; she couldn't keep the doubt nibbling at the fringes of her mind.

Dwalin shouted at them from further down the cavern to which the company started eagerly down the pass. Cragged rocks bit at their clothes and scraped their sides, but the company made it out safely to open air.

Eda felt a swell of relief and dread rising from her toes to the coarse ends of her hair.

Effortless curves of white and elegant, domed roofs stretched out in front of them. The greenery of the surrounding crags and mountains trickled down and wove through the buildings like a verdant river. On the whole, the sight seemed seamlessly natural, as if the mountains came into being with the settlement already in place. Bilbo said the name on everyone's mind—though perhaps with a touch more awe than some dwarves appreciated. When the company started to move down the rock and towards Rivendell, Eda failed to move, her feet rooted to the spot. In her dealings, she'd brushed against the creatures in almost every manner imaginable—acquaintance, comrade, enemy or simply nothing at all. She rarely kept in touch, however, for the same reason she avoided sharing her name with certain lines of men: some people had long, good memories.

Gandalf glanced at her hesitation before nudging her gently with his hand. "You did not fight so desperately to stay in this company only to be left behind for staring," he reminded. She scurried to catch up to the others while Gandalf passed the ranks to take the front.

Despite her apprehension, she couldn't help but admire the tended gardens and pristine beauty. They collected before a steep staircase, and the dwarves ambled around—silently, for once—to stare in every direction. A voice called out something Eda did not recognize, and the attentions turned towards the stairs. A tall, lean elf descended towards them, cloaked in rich hues of deep purple. Gandalf gave a sound of recognition. Eda took the assumption they exchanged greetings and sought to hide herself behind Dwalin's large stature. As it was, the dwarf paid her little attention, instead leaning in for Thorin's confidence.

A horn wailed in the distance followed by the clamor of horse hooves on stone.

"Close ranks!" Thorin barked. The woman took the opportunity to duck into the middle of the huddled mass, keeping her head low and her face downturned. She didn't share the dwarves' suspicion—after all, the elf and Gandalf appeared familiar—but she welcomed any noise from the dwarves that would help her pass unnoticed. Gloin growled behind her, and she could see the dwarves jostling apprehensively as the horses circled them in tight precision. And all came to an abrupt stillness. Again, she heard Gandalf's voice—though this time she felt he spoke a word she knew. Her head buzzed from trying to pick out words, but she remembered "orc," "we" and "near." The elf's next words came in common tongue.

"Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders." He stepped past Gandalf. "Something, or someone, has drawn them near."

"That may have been us." Gandalf gestured to their huddled group. The dwarves parted as a very grave Thorin stepped forward. The elf did not loose a second in surprise, stepping forward and greeting Thorin by name. Thorin gave a curt reply to which the elf replied confidently. For every answer, Thorin appeared to have a sharp, unyielding answer, and his comrades seemed either unnerved, defiantly proud or a combination of the two as they waited through the exchange. When the elf broke from common tongue, the feelings stiffened and darkened. Gloin blustered forward, yelling about insults and brandishing a fist.

"No, Master Gloin, he is offering you food," Gandalf interrupted with exasperated annoyance. The dwarves turned in upon themselves, muttering hurriedly in their own tongue while Eda and Bilbo awkwardly waited. Gloin gave the verdict, and Eda felt her stomach give a happy grumble. 'Food,' she smiled despite herself. 'Peace.'

They hurried up the stairs with renewed vigor. None of the dwarves seemed wary or uncomfortable with gruffly unloading their goods into a heap on the stone floor. Their weapons, however, stayed securely attached, and their eyes kept wary.

"Don't be ridiculous," Gandalf huffed. "Set aside your weapons for one evening. You are amongst friends now." Thorin locked eyes on him with a challenge, and the two said nothing for near a minute.

"If you would prefer to leave your valuables locked in your rooms," the elf started, stepping forward and address Thorin with a firm gaze. "I can have your company escorted there before the evening meal." Thorin nodded his head only once, his jaw set tightly in silence. The elves who had arrived to retrieve their bags from the ground stepped forward and bowed their heads softly. "Follow them, please, and I will speak with Gandalf until you return." The dwarves set off in the smooth trail of the elves. Eda had ended up between Bilbo and Oin. One appeared enraptured by the sights while the other wore skeptical disdain. Neither reaction particularly surprised the woman, but she kept silent.

Whenever they passed tall, arched doors of carved wood, an elf would stop to open the door and escort two of the dwarves inside. From her passing glances, each room appeared similarly refined and polished, furnished with two beds and end tables. 'Two to a room,' Eda calculated. 'With any luck, I'll be the last one and get my own room.' And that thought slowed her steps till she drifted at the end of the group. She was wrong, however, and the final three, herself, stood in stilted silence before the last door of the hall.

Her eyes flicked nervously between the impassive faces of Balin and Dwalin. 'This couldn't get worse.'

"This leaves us with quite a predicament," Balin said plainly. His hands clasped in front of his stomach and his eyes shot to the woman and dwarf standing opposite him yet a pointed distance from each other. The woman attempted a hopeful smile despite her better judgment.

"I suppose sharing is—"

"Out of the question!" Dwalin thundered, his shoulders tensing. "Even if you weren't a woman—"

"I meant you and Balin, you oaf!" Her temper spat out. Dwalin silenced yet his glare remained upon the girl who raised her hands to rub her eyes tiredly. "I-I'm so—"

"One of us will simply sleep on the ground. If we stay longer than one night, we can alternate," Balin suggested. "Perhaps at dinner we can request another bed—"

"Room." Dwalin interjected.

"How will we decide?" The woman's voice came out hesitant, as if she already knew what awaited her. When neither dwarf volunteered an option, she cracked a weak grin. "How 'bout we flip coin?"

"How 'bout we duel?" Dwalin's pointed stare and folded arms landed heavily on the woman's shoulders. She waved her hands furiously through the air, saying something about unnecessary measures.

"Oi, Balin, Dwa—" the three, new roommates pivoted to see Fili and Kili in their open doorframe. Fili's hand rested over the wood, ready to knock, but it dropped when they took stock of the room's occupants. "What is going on?" Eda let out a dejected huff and threw her pack onto the ground with surprising vehemence.

"Nothing," she replied heatedly. "Simply getting my bed ready for the night." Both princes paused to gather what she meant, their eyes swiveling from the discarded pack to the two older dwarves. Balin wore a discomforted expression while Dwalin's face betrayed little beyond a hard disapproval of the entire situation.

"What bed?" Kili asked. "That's the floor."

"Surely they have another room to spare," Fili trailed off. "A woman to share a room with two dwarves is unacceptable, but to only have two beds…"

"It's not a problem. It won't be much different from my time in the woods." Despite her efforts to inject cheer into her words, she felt the heavy, tugging of disappointment in her stomach. 'The beds look like heaven.' "I'd rather not bother our hosts over something so frivolous, especially not with tensions already high." She pulled off her gloves and rubbed her palms together. The friction brought not only warmth but distraction, and she kept her eyes decidedly away from the others'. She turned and smiled best she felt she could. "Let's go to food."

"Wait." Her foot had just passed the threshold when Fili held out a hand. "Even if you don't want to bother _them_, the floor is unacceptable hospitality." Kili nodded resolutely. The brunette's agreement abruptly ended when his brother said, "you should sleep in our room."

"What?" The younger dwarf's voice rocketed in shock. "Fee, what are—"

"We can easily share a bed, Kee. Therefore she could take the second bed." Fili matched his brother's stare.

"I do not want her in our room!" Kili insisted angrily.

"You would rather leave a woman to sleep on the floor?" Fili challenged calmly. Eda could see his big brother airs coming out. Not in a nasty or haughty way, but rather the way he somehow managed to deflate Kili's anger and still remain pensive and understanding. Kili crossed his arms in front of his chest but gave no other argument. "Come on, brother." Fili clapped a hand on Kili's shoulder and grinned. "We can show the greatest of our dwarvish nobility." Eda felt her face break into a sincere smile, and she brought them into a hug before she could think it through.

"Thank you!" She nearly laughed before dashing to grab her bag. 'A bed!' The dwarves in witness to her exuberance felt supremely perplexed, but Balin and Dwalin let the princes lead her to their room without argument, both feeling simply relieved to have a resolution that did not include them.

After depositing her things on the soft, clean comforter and nearly purring in anticipation of the sleep to come, they walked without a word to the dinner. Long, narrow tables hummed russet under the fading sunlight. Already, Oin, Balin and Dwalin had decided upon seats. Ori and Dori were taking theirs beside Bifur and Bombur when Eda reached the table. Normally, she would try to sit away from the campfire circle or find a place beside Bilbo or Gandalf. But such was impossible at a table of lined seats. Fili and Kili moved away and happily joined their kin, leaving the woman at a loss.

"Sit down, already," Gloin huffed from his brother's side. She dropped to the seat at the very end of the table, opposite Dori. Tuning into the conversation, she found the soft-mannered dwarf trying to pursuade his brother to try the leafy greens on his place. For his part, Ori showed no interest in entertaining such a notion and set the goods back on the plate without a taste.

"I don't like green food." All around, the dwarves abandoned subtly and let their discontentment fly open on the wind. Chief amongst the complaints was the lack of any meat—though Oin's protest of the music followed in a close second. She didn't mind the food but only picked at the pieces on her plate; in all the excitement of arriving in Rivendell—and the horror of what drove them there—she had yet to figure out her next move. Fili's words of leaving her on a doorstep shrilled more loudly in her ears now that they stood on elf lands. The dwarves may hate elves, but she was willing to wager her last coin that they would happily leave her behind if a chance presented itself. If she didn't act soon, that was.

She shoved a quick mouthful, grabbed some bread and darted off without a word. If she knew anything about the dwarves she had traveled with thus far, she knew they would not wait for the elves to improve the food. She ran down the hall and into her room, skidding across the smooth stone floor to grab her bow and quiver from the bed. Her hands shook but not from fear. She grinned. A course of adrenaline and determination sprang her steps as she bounded down the hall and out of sight; this was her chance for a peace offering.

* * *

"Oi, Bombur, get yer pot," Bofur called. The moon hung high in the sky, peeking out at the dwarves assembling in the empty room. Bifur spared no words and no wood when he started to promptly break a table into pieces and toss the fragments into a pile. Gloin set to searching his pockets for his tinderbox. Even without Thorin around to order them to duties, they all knew exactly what to do. Fili and Kili helped Ori collect tables and chairs—their fate as either firewood or utensils unknown for the present. Dori had gone to retrieve their food stores with Dwalin. The latter seemed most anxious to get proper food in his stomach, a sentiment shared by most of his comrades.

The fire started to crackle and pop through the timber. Bombur returned with his pot and utensils to hear the dwarves debating what to cook. Or rather, what to cook first.

"Meat" was the general consensus, and Bofur pulled out sausages. They tasked Fili with cutting potatoes for a stew, and sent Nori to fetch water. Kili took a seat on a table against the wall and laughed as the dwarves let good-natured insults fly.

"Don't we have anything larger?" Dwalin asked, eyeing the sausages Bofur held over the fire. Ori's disappointed expression spoke to a similar feeling. "I'll be dead before we've finished eating through those."

"You could always cook yer own," Bofur retorted lightly. His fingers gently prodded the meat, testing its heat before setting it back over the fire.

"Don't go touchin' 'em," Dori exclaimed. "When was the last time you washed your hands?"

"Aye. It's a sausage, not yer wife," Gloin added with a smirk. The company laughed heartily.

"Are ya sure? It looks a little like yer own—" Bofur's remark was interrupted by hoots of laughter and Gloin's indignant shouts. To add to it, Bofur removed the sausage, handling it with a degree of daintiness before taking a hearty bite.

"Oi! I'm starving! Why do you get the first one?" Indignant hollers rose above the laughter. Bofur's answer jumbled around his mouthful of food, but it sounded something like 'chef gets first bite.' Bombur took the potatoes from a laughing Fili and dropped them into the water.

The cough caught Kili's attention first, and he nudged Bofur's shoulder with his foot. The noise dropped from the air when the dwarves turned to see Eda standing quietly in the shadows. She stepped closer to the fire, and their eyes dropped to the weight in her hand.

"Meat!"

The two rabbits and lone quail were promptly dispersed amongst the company for speedy preparation. At first Eda had wanted to laugh at their zeal, but their less than skilled efforts reined in the excitement.

"Wait!" She couldn't help but yelp as Dwalin placed her knife at the rabbit's neck. "Not like that." His eyes ran dark for a second before he let her take the rabbit from his hand. She managed a small smile, grateful he hadn't thrown his war hammer at her head. She took out her own knife. Bombur and Bofur paired off to pluck the quail, leaving her with a hungry, impatient and wary audience.

She breathed in and tightened her hold on her knife. "Like this," she said quietly. Her fingers delicately pinched the skin at the lower belly and she slid her knife in. "You don't want to hit the internal organs," she explained, making a straight, shallow line through the skin of the belly. Her fingers worked under the lining, gently tearing the skin from the flesh. "Okay." She looked up to see the dwarves looking a mix of disgust and impressed. 'Suppose they don't do much of it themselves,' she mused with a ghost of a grin. "You can use this line to pull the skin off." She showed Dwalin where to grasp, and the dwarf set to it without a word. The bare flesh of the rabbit flickered red and gold in the firelight.

As he went, Eda had turned to the other rabbit. Kili waited with knife in hand. Ori had stepped away, disgruntled by the sight and tended the fire with his back to the group. Her fingers made small red imprints on the rabbit's white belly when she puckered the skin. She gave Kili a nod and he carefully pierced it like parchment. She smiled, for once feeling closer to herself and let him take over with Fili.

Turning back to Dwalin, she told him t o remove the head and feet. He did so again without a single utterance, and Eda wondered if he was showing her some respect or simply pretending a disembodied voice instructed him. Gloin watched carefully as she showed them how to cut out the groin, anus and tail. Fili and Kili had rejoined silently to watch as she showed them how to cut the open the stomach to empty the innards.

"Check the internal organs for anything off," she told them before they returned to their own rabbit. Her own inspection showed no abnormalities and she told Dwalin to wash it with cold water. "Leave the other organs," she added as he took a pail of water from Nori and started to clean the animal.

"How long do we have to wait then?" Dwalin finally spoke. She smiled.

"As long as it takes to cook it."

One rabbit and the quail made it to a spit over the fire while the second rabbit joined the pot of potatoes. Eda sat on the ground beside Bofur and couldn't seem to wash the smile from her face. Though not the most well-seasoned, the group eagerly tore into the meat while Bofur kept a steady stream of sausages flowing to their plates.

She rolled up her sleeves and let her arms bask in the pleasant burn of the fire.

"Why, that much hair on yer arms, we'd think ya a dwarf maid," Bofur exclaimed with a laugh. Eda rolled her eyes and chuckled. A joke was not silence. And a joke was not politeness. The fire seeped closer to the back of her ribcage when hope had frozen.

"What are those?" Ori pointed to the thick leather bands wrapping around her left arm. Totalling six in number, the bracelets varied in width and detail. The first wrapped around her wrist whilst the last rested almost half-way up her forearm.

"I'll tell you," she said happily. "If you promise to share something of your culture in return." A few dwarves stiffened, not apparently keen on what that could mean. "Nothing secretive or anything," she promised. "But I want to learn more about you." She caught Fili's eye and made a purpose to look at Dwalin and Kili. "What's important to you." She didn't hear any refusals, and let a little hope tell her it was a silent agreement.

"These are different bands of families in the North. Families I have helped in one way or another." She could practically hear the question in the air. "Not necessarily by illegal means. My town, my people, take hospitality very seriously. Sometimes to complete strangers, we will offer food and a bed. For some people, if they feel particularly touched by the gesture, it is custom to make a leather band and fashion it with a family style."

She leaned forward and held her arm to the firelight. She pointed to the one at her wrist. A thin strap barely wider than her pinkie finger, it wrapped around and tied tightly in an intricate knot, the loose ends dangling several centimeters with two black beads tied to the ends. The next one held more handiwork; the creator had engraved a pattern of vines and stars along its band and sewn a single line of gold thread along one edge.

"It serves as a sign of gratitude and friendship. And a promise that they and their kin will always help when needed." A smile drifted across but her eyes strayed into memories, the nostalgic, peaceful kind that brought pangs of homesickness.

"How do you take them off?" Kili asked, tilting his head to look at the knots of each band.

"You don't."

"Ever?" Fili asked incredulously. Eda shook her head.

"Ever."

"You must be filthy under those things," Kili remarked. His voice still held to a general distrust, but she could see a bit of curiosity filling his eyes.

"So long as I never take them off, I'll never know," she shot back cheekily. Her hope buoyed as the twitch in the corner of his mouth, and a light chuckle from the group. "And now, it is your turn." The dwarves immediately turned into small, huddled beehives of Khudzul. They stopped with such sychronization it felt almost rehearsed, and Gloin started.

"You see how dwarf men have fantastic beards. Well, most of us—"at this Fili playfully shoved his brother, the odd man out. He appeared nonplussed, still smiling, though Eda could not stop the shot of sympathy. "In our culture, beards—or rather, hair—are very important." Eda pulled her knees to her chest and rested her arms around her legs. "To touch someone's hair is either a matter of great love or great insult."

"As are our braids," Bofur added. The crowd chorused agreements.

"What do the braids mean?" Eda asked with genuine curiosity, her hazel eyes wide and shining in the fire's glow.

"All braids mean different things. Either power, skills, status or occupation," Fili piped up.

"Certain braids are used for courtships and marriage," chimed Bofur happily.

"Yes." Gloin shot both dwarves a pointed stare to express his displeasure at being interrupted. "Only kin may braid hair or add new braids."

"Or a beloved." Bofur grinned like a cat around the end of his pipe. Despite Gloin's efforts, the dwarf seemed all too tickled to add a dash of fun and romance.

"You seem quite enthralled with the romantic notions of braids," Eda teased, her heart pounding as she tested the waters. For a second of his silence, her heart stopped.

"Aye, well, I do miss Gloin's wife very—"

"Alright, you!" Eda laughed harder than possibly necessary. Her fingers tingled but she knew it was simply the mirth of excitement shivering in her veins. She had made a joke. And they had responded. Her heart felt like it was swimming in a warm bath and she hugged her knees closer to her chest. 'Perhaps this could turn around,' she dared.

"Do you have anything like braids in your culture?" Ori whispered shyly, his eyes barely making it over the top of his book to reach her. She shook her head.

"But I wish we did," she confessed. The dwarves hushed, and Eda felt a wash of nerves. Had she said the wrong thing again? Then her eyes snagged on Kili's. From where he sat by the fire, she could see his intense concentration. But it wasn't angry. In fact, looking over every dwarf face, not a single expression rang of anger or insult. Rather they seemed almost flattered. 'Certainly proud,' she thought with a shy smile. 'But they wouldn't be dwarves without their pride.' Her lungs brimmed with a daring nerve.

"I, uh, w-wanted to say something," she tried to raise her voice though the relative quiet hardly called for it. "I misspoke earlier—or perhaps that's all I've been doing since I joined. I didn't mean to threaten your lives or quest." Several dwarves stiffened with stony faces. "I shouldn't have spoken so angrily or desperately. I have a family I love and a home I love, and I would never want to endanger someone else's on account of my wrongs." Her eyes whisked over the faces with such speed she felt they almost blurred into one unreadable collage. "I know you don't have a reason to trust me after what I said and everything. But I hope you will give me a second chance." Her thumb started to crack her fingers in a nervous tic.

"You're missing something," Fili said. She blinked, her mind reeling to try and decipher the words.

It clicked. "I'm sorry." Not to say the dwarves immediately broke out a merry band of hugs for her, but several faces softened. Some held to their defenses, but she took solace in the appreciative nods from the lot. Even Kili, with a slight nudging from his brother, yielded.

"Apology accepted," declared Dwalin gruffly. He bit into a rabbit's leg. She smiled.

"If I bring meat for every night we are to stay here, will that help?" She gambled hopefully. Bofur chortled.

"You'll need to bring more tomorrow," Kili pointed out, nodding a head in the direction of Bombur. She grinned. Bofur took the moment to test the latest sausage and sneak an inquisitive glance at the afore-mentioned red-head.

"Bombur, catch!" He tossed the sausage to Bombur's meaty hand. The table beaneath the dwarf's gigantic bum creaked just a second before it collapsed beneath him, spilling the dwarf and all his food onto the ground in a riotous round of laughter. Bofur fell to his side laughing; Bifur stayed at his perch by the fire, lettuce held in hand over the flames. For herself, Eda couldn't stop laughing even if she had wanted to.


	12. Inky Nights

Sorry!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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"I didn't know women could make that noise."

"Should we throw something at her?"

"I could throw an arrow."

"Throw or shoot an arrow, Kili?"

"However chance may choose."

It was an hour after their late-night feed had finished. The three had returned in a somewhat easy silence to their shared room and separated for their beds. Fili had been feeling the night went well—a properly riotous, dwarf affair—and his happiness kept him awake while the inky sky swirled outside. That had apparently been his mistake. Kili had been the first to point out the woman's even breathing. "It's been hardly a minute," he had said with a hint of jealousy.

"More like twenty, Kee," Fili had countered. They settled back into their soft conversations. Sharing the bed had felt more like a piece of a past home than anything else. From the moment Kili could part from their mother as a babe, he had slept in the same bed as Fili—with exceptions of times they were particularly rambunctious or disobedient. Yet even then, one would sneak to the other, and come morning their mother would discover them soundly asleep side by side.

When Fili had started to take on more responsibilities from his uncle and feel more like the heir of Durin than a young dwarf, he had moved to a separate room. Kili hadn't been fond of the idea, going so far as to suggest perhaps sharing a room if sharing a bed was abruptly too juvenile for them, but Thorin's early mornings became Fili's early mornings, and Kili loathed "unnatural" awakenings. Thus close quarters had supplanted their childhood proximity.

"You should put more braids in your hair," Fili had commented as he held a lock of his brother's brown hair between his fingers. Kili had cracked one eye open but said nothing. The earlier conversation of dwarf culture still bounced around the younger's head. Although he had appreciated—however begrudgingly—the woman's sincere curiosity and admiration of the traditions, the very conversation unnerved him the same as every other time. His brother knew of his self-consciousness around his hair—distinctly his lack of it.

Growing up, he had wanted the hair of spun gold like Fili's. When Fili's facial hair came in thick, powerful and just as golden, he remembered thinking excitedly of the time he would have the same. But his grew more slowly, and his young hope of replicating his brother's fantastic moustache dwindled. He covered the insecurity with jokes at first, and the jokes acted like chainmail, protecting him from the worst of the jibes and dismissals. Over time his skin hardened, and the words didn't sting as much. He knew he had in part his brother to thank for this. Fili had remained ever supportive and optimistic, ready to tease Kili to a smile while withering sincere detractors with a firey vengence. He was Kili's big brother, after all.

"When we've reclaimed our homeland, you can put all the braids you'd like within my hair," Kili had joked.

Fili had smirked. "What a daring offer, Kee—" they had stopped short as a noise landed on their ears.

"What in the name of Durin is that?" Fili had propped himself up by his elbow. Kili had rolled over onto his stomach, eyes alert under confusion.

"It's like a bear choking on pebbles." The air had filled with a rumbling inhale, and both brothers had stared in shock at the sleeping form on the other side of the room.

And thus there they were, staring at the young woman as her snores droned with every inhale, contemplating their options. Fili playfully shoved his brother's shoulder.

"I feel chance with you and Miss Eda's life is not a risk I would take," he quipped, leaving his brother to feign offense. "But we should likely do something. At this rate, Dwalin will come raging in with his hammer to slay the beast." Kili nodded. Fili nodded. Kili nodded again and issued a cross groan at his brother's pointed stare.

"Why should it fall to me?"

The question was barely finished out Kili's mouth when Fili shot back, "Because I am the older brother." He laid back on the bed. "You best hurry to it lest you lose even more sleep." Kili shot a glare at the blond only to find his eyes closed and an amused quirk in his lips. Kili threw off the covers in a huff and hurried across the floor. The woman's hair sprawled over the pillow, and she slept with her back facing them.

"Fee, what should I do?" Kili hissed over his shoulder. He received no response and silently cursed his brother. Neither of the brothers was known for picturesque sleeping habits, but that didn't mean he had the slightest clue what to do. Whenever his brother had snored, Kili had simply kicked him awake. He doubted such was an option with the trapper.

'I shall be the first to sleep tomorrow,' Kili decided silently as he prodded the woman's shoulder. She didn't stir and another grating inhale filled the room. He frowned, vexed and feeling no small amount of tired. 'She's lucky this isn't a nightly thing or Thorin would send her away simply for the thought of her noise.' He grabbed her shoulder with a full palm and tipped her onto her back. The second her back met the bed, her eyes snapped open. Before he could react, her hands had seized his arm at the shoulder and wrist and twisted the limb back, sending him face-first into the plush comforter.

"O-Oh. I-I'm sorry!" She let go immediately and sat up. Her eyes were wide and her teeth gnawing her lower lip. "Are you okay?" He shook his arm out.

"'Tis fine," he said. "Not the first time you've attempted to injure me." Her eyes seemed to swell with confusion before she found the tired curl tucked in the corner of his mouth.

"I don't recall a first time," she prompted.

"That's peculiar, because I most certainly recall you loosing an arrow towards my head," responded the brunette.

"If that counts as an attack, then consider it retribution for the moment in the woods I found myself in the line of your arrow." He nodded.

"Then on that account, we are settled." He raised his arm to recall her actions not five minutes ago. "This one remains." She raised her hand as if to offer her arm for an equal repayment, but his eyes hitched on her fingertips. Without realizing he'd done so, he took her fingers in his hands and held them close to his eyes, squinting through the darkness.

"What are these upon your fingers?" She smoothly tugged her hand from his grasp.

"Will you tell me something of your culture if I explain?" He hesitated, his mind looking back to his bed and sleeping brother. The night sky was watery with promises of a slowly marching dawn. But his curiosity was great. So he sat on the edge of her bed and waited.

"We have these bands to signify families." Indeed, the bracelets rested against her skin. "Connections, mostly. People we meet and feel we would help should they ever need it." She smiled. "Sometimes you meet people and know that you have found a kindred spirit." She held out her left hand to the feeble light, and Kili bent closer. Of her five finger tips, three held identical scars, starting from the tip of her finger to end right before the first knuckle. They weren't jagged like a battle scar or childhood accident. If anything, they were swift and precise. Every scar had a different design of black tattooing beside it.

"These are to signify the people I would die for," she whispered. "Our people aren't so different from other men, but this is one of the few cultural traditions we hold to." She grinned with unabashed pride. "When two people feel strongly enough, whether amongst a family, amongst lovers or friends, they will participate in a ritual of mxing bloods." Kili's face betrayed his impulsive disapproval of something that seemed so primitive. Surely there were more cultured ways of—she cut into his thoughts. "A greater part of the tradition is a secret for those who participate." He nodded in silent understanding of her excuse for secrecy. "But both people cut a single incision into their fingers." She dragged her nail lightly across his finger before pressing it to hers. "The idea is that that person's blood will flow in your veins." She released his hand. "After the incision has healed for a week, each person tattoos his or her initials into the person's finger, so never can a person forget nor lie about their blood."

"What if you change your mind?" Kili finally spoke. She gave a lop-sided grin and shrugged.

"That's why it is considered a most serious thing. There is no recourse to undo or bury what you've done." He shifted in his seat and let the information settle. It sounded painful and almost barbaric, but her explanation and clear love of its tradition, significance, gave him pause. He glanced at her hand and found it cradled gently by her right hand. Three of her fingers bore the scars and tattoos of the ritual.

"Are they all your family members?" He motioned to her fingers.

She shook her head. "Not entirely. Family is rather assumed since it is blood already. But I do have my younger brother," she tapped her thumb. "It starts with the thumb, this being the greatest, and so the first love brings us to the world." Kili instinctively looked across the room to his brother's shadowed form.

"Why is it upon the left hand? Is not the right hand stronger?"

"True, in most instances it is stronger. But we use our right hands for work and battle. The right hand is stained with blood—whether of men, orcs or animals." She raised her left hand and widened her fingers. "These are the people I would die for, the ones I carry with me always. I would not want their names covered with the blood of my kills."

"I suppose doing the ritual on a right hand is," he left the sentence open for her words.

"A most serious stroke of bad luck." She let her voice lift, "as is being born with your left hand dominant." He chuckled despite himself.

"I suppose that would be true." He yawned and felt her knee bumping his back.

"You should sleep."

"I have yet to give my fair return," he started.

"And yet there are many days ahead." She tilted her head and nodded in the direction of his bed. "I am simply happy to have had a conversation with you." He blinked, startled by her forthright statement, but she gave no notion of embarrassment or regret. "I know I apologized to the company earlier, but I would feel remiss if I did not say I am sorry for any distrust or fear I caused you. I can only imagine what it would feel to see someone disappear in the hour of need." Kili's lips pressed together, and his eyes clouded in thought.

"You let your thoughts flow quite loosely." He said it neither as a compliment nor reproach for he could not tell how he particularly felt about it. Only that it was different.

"When the honesty comes, best to let it," she answered blithely.

Kili stood from the edge of her bed, and the woman fell back to the embrace of her bed. "If such is the case, I regret to inform you, in the spirit of honesty, that your snores are quite formidable."

She chuckled and tossed to his retreating form, "Duly noted."


	13. Traps

A/N: Sorry. Updates will be a little more infrequent as I try to sort out internet access.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

Dawn leaked into the sky and across Rivendell. The sun started as a low spark and grew, round and energetic, into the sky. When its first rays of light chimed inacross her eyes, Eda threw an arm across her face and turned her back to the stealthy intruder. But it was too late, and her mind started to click into place, thoughts tumbling through the cogs. Her stomach yawned loud and low. Ten minutes managed to pass before she begrudgingly sat up and wiped sleep from her eyes.

The brothers slept more or less soundly at the other end of the room, and Eda crept from her bed with practiced quiet. Her thoughts happily meandered around the memories of the night before as she braided her hair. Her own braid meant little to her but for the fact it kept her hair from her face, yet she wanted to learn more about the intricacies of their own tradition. 'After all,' she rationalized as she tried the end of her hair with a band, 'I spent far too much time near dwarves to be completely ignorant.'

She picked up her vest, cloak and trousers from the chair beside her bed, taking only a second to observe the complimentary nightdress the elves had left on her bed the night before. The nightdress she had foregone in favour of her tunic and a spare pair of trousers. Hanging from the back of the chair, her quiver looked piteously bare with only two arrows remaining. Though she ought to have three, she sulked, if it weren't for the quail's fall from the sky breaking the arrow when it crashed to the ground. Still, two felt too valuable to gamble with when she didn't know what may find them outside the safety of Rivendell. Glancing at the two sleeping dwarves, she felt a warm bubbling in her chest. The night before had finally felt like she made the right step, said the right words, for once. She sheathed her knives and snuck out of the room.

Once in the hall, she threw cloak over her shoulders and tugged the hood low on her face. As of yet, the elves had yet to give her problems, and perhaps it was simply that they did not know who she was, but she didn't feel inclined to run risks regardless. It wouldn't only take one run-in with a past acquaintance for her secrets to spill. In such an instance, her best hope would be for a simple exile—even if it meant leaving Thorin's quest. Efficient, soft footsteps carried her out the hall and through the rooms to the outside air.

"My lady," a serene voice called behind her. "May I help you find something?" A tall female glided forward. "If you are awake and wishing for food—"

"No, I was," she ducked into the shadows of her hood, the brim of her cloak hanging in her vision and giving the woman merely a view of the elf from the stomach down. She could see willowy fingers delicately clasped but little else beyond the familiar lean frame of an elf and the wisp of fine cloth. Cloth she had stolen before. "I-I am going for a fresh stroll is all." She bowed from the waist. "But I appreciate your concern and warm hospitality, my lady." She could not seen the elf's face but a soft tinkle of laughter drifted to her ears. "Thank you." She hurried out and turned on her heel, practically galloping down the stairs. After a turn in the path, she ducked under a tree and held a hand to her chest, her fingers curling into her tunic.

"Breathe," she ordered. "Stop being such a frightened rabbit." Though she spoke the words, she heard her father's voice in her head, and it brought a smile to her face. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, trying to put her sunset memory to the bright scenery. A willow lazed in the sunlight, and she walked around its trunk. On the western side, right at the boundary of a peaceful garden, she saw her heel print from the night before, kicked into the ground to mark the spot. The pale rock jutted up like a wall into a clear blue ceiling. Checking for any visible elves, Eda crouched and sprinted through the garden.

Elven goods were highly prized in the world—very similarly to the jewels and fine armour of dwarves. While she hadn't bothered to steal or smuggle from the kin in the Blue Mountains—and she would never counter Thorin's wider generalization of dwarves in general—this did not mean other races were similarly treated. Of the dealings she involved herself in, few dealt with artifacts of extreme importance. Only once in her career had she handled a blade made by the West Elves of the first age—and that was several years ago. Unfortunately for the more reclusive of the elven kind, their perceived disdain for the world of men and dwarves often lead to such men and dwarves enlisting more subversive methods to obtain whatever cultural artifact or resource they wanted.

As for Rivendell specifically. Her boots scattered pale pebbles as she climbed onto a jagged path. She hurried along the ledge until it naturally widened and disappeared in the thickets of the mountain-side forest. They were not overly fond of strangers hunting in their lands, either. The ground was steep but she kept a decent pace and before long, it leveled into a minute valley between peaks. Birds trilled and chirped.

"All I have to do," she assured herself. "Is get through Rivendell without meeting someone who knows me for one reason or another." She nodded resolutely and pulled a length of twine from a pocket in her vest.

"Why would you need such a thing?" Her heart flew into her throat with a yelp while her hand snatched a knife from her hip. Several meters away, Kili stepped out from behind an oak.

"Oh, to all my ancestors dead and buried," she muttered over receeding nerves. "What are you doing here?"

"Fili said you were likely to get lost." He shrugged.

"You both slept when I left," she challenged, eyes narrowing in something between suspicion and confusion.

"Fili's a light sleeper. He said you were laughing to yourself." He took a step back. "I would much rather sleep if you have no need for me or protection." She grasped a piece of her lower lip between her teeth and chewed on her words. Protection, no, she did not need that. The woods hummed about them. Before she could sort her feelings towards having a companion, he said, "I didn't know where you had gone until I saw you running along the moutain."

"Your eyesight must be great," she let out without a thought. He grinned, obviously proud of himself.

"One of the reasons Thorin allowed us to join him in this quest." Even after she had commented on his eyesight, he couldn't help but speak of a plural—obviously himself and his brother. Eda took a second to look at her left thumb, her eyes grazing happily over the scar and her brother's black initials beside it.

"What are you doing out here?" Kili asked, his voice softer as he watched her staring at her thumb with a far-away smile.

"Hunting," she replied matter-of-factly. "I wanted to bring more catches for the company."

"If such, I must point out you forgot your bow." Kili pointed to her shoulder, and she laughed.

"I have so few arrows that I thought it best to lay traps and come collect after noon." She held up one hand of twine. "If you would care to help, I would never turn down such an offer."

"Even when it comes from me?" Kili raised an eyebrow. A part of his voice held humour; the other offered a semblance of skepticism. The woman had proven to be capable of both sincere effort and inept diplomacy. Neither erased the other—nor his continued wariness of her second career. But what she had shown him the night before eased his mind a little while simultaneously teasing his curiosity. Whether she felt similarly towards him after their tense interactions, he couldn't guess. And perhaps that was why he had followed her into the woods, and why he found himself asking such a question.

"Even when it comes from you." She turned and gestured for him to join her. "After all, I can simply give you the tedious tasks."

* * *

"That's hardly sharp enough," Eda remarked with flat doubt. The dwarf stopped his duty, holding the branch in front of him and staring critically at its carved end.

His dark eyes turned onto her, and she dropped her attention to the rope currently hugging tight to a bent branch. She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Would you care me to test it upon you?" He thrust the speared tip in her direction, and she ducked low, leaning to her side. It took less than a second for her decision to define, and she let go of the coarse rope. It seared through her palm, but all pain disappeared in her howls of laughter when the branch whipped through the air and smacked the dwarf soundly on his shoulder. He tumbled to the side and groaned into a faceful of dirt. Only when he didn't move did she quiet and creep near.

"Kili?" She nudged him first with the toe of her boot then her finger. He groaned. "Surely you've had worse," she sat back and fixed him with a disbelieving expression.

"Your bedside manner lacks much," Kili retorted, pushing hisself to an upright position, one hand massaging his shoulder.

"You're hardly of a state requiring a bedside manner," she muttered. Even though she knew he could handle himself in battle, she couldn't restrain the guilt at seeing him nursing his shoulder.

"That is a poor apology for wounding me," teased the dwarf. A growl gurgled in her throat but she tossed out the words nonetheless.

"I'm sorry." He teetered near laughter at the sour look on her face.

"You're quite adverse to those words," he commented, picking up the discarded stick and resuming the task of filing it to a fine point. She chuckled.

"Only when forced by doeful eyes of a theatrical dwarf."

A silence then a cheery wisecrack. "Doeful? As in large doe eyes?" Eda rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the breath of a laugh.

"Doleful," she emphasized. "Though I would not doubt you could manage doe-like eyes—not to say you should do so now!" Wide brown eyes stared at her before the dwarf cracked a smile. He held out the sharpened stick, which she took.

"What's your brother's name?" Kili sat back on the ground as she set to the trap. It was their third of the morning, and he was steadily appreciating how they worked. After she had set a snare with string and thin metal wires and found him baffled by the loops and knots, she decided to teach him a trap first. His question pulled her eyes for a second in his direction, but she returned to her task with a look of almost spiritual focus. He had noticed the expression every time she put her fingers to either bow or trap and suspected it was reserved for only those moments.

"Philip," she said. Kili tested the name aloud and caught a hint of a smile on her face. Even something as simple as the sound of her brother's name varnished her eyes in glee. Kili thought of his own brother. Fili brightened his life like the sun; if for no other reason, Kili knew he would appreciate the woman for the way she clearly loved her brother. Perhaps Gandalf had been right in arguing on her behalf, he mused.

"How old is he?"

"Three winters younger than myself." She finished the knots and stepped away from the trap. Her eyes shone with pride—though for her brother or her work, the dwarf didn't know. "He's always been studious and brilliant. Just last summer he was accepted as a scribe's apprentice. It's a later start than others, but he had to overcome our home's lack of books and learning for the chance." He stood up and walked quietly beside her as she continued gleefully. "I would give him a room of books if I could. Anything his heart yearned for; he'd only need to whisper it to the wind, and I'd fetch it to his doorstep." Her hands flew through the air, gesturing to the whole sky as if she could fold it into a bundle and carry it home.

"How many books have you sent him thus far?" Though he asked sociably, her eyes clouded.

"None." Her voice had mellowed. "I haven't the money to buy such luxuries. Books are of little use to the hungry and cold." Kili searched for words but like trying to grab fish from a pond, he came up empty. Her voice was soft and pensive, but she didn't look at him with any misery –in fact, she didn't look at him at all but stared up at the forest canopy. When she finally did, he felt surprised at the expression. Could a person look resigned and content but somehow determined?

"If I can manage this quest, I could give him books and stories to fill his every waking moment." She nodded resolutely then inhaled sharply. "Which reminds me." She pointed at him. "You still owe from last night."

"I believe that debt was settled on account of you hitting me with a tree branch," responded the dwarf smoothly.

"And I do believe physical debts and intellectual owes are separate." Her response flowed just as slick on his heels.

"There must certainly be a dwarf amongst your ancestors," Kili joked. "Fine. Though I am not sure what you would prefer me to share. We do not have blood rituals such as yours." She clasped her hands behind her back and strode ahead. Turning back to him, she playfully challenged, "Have you any skill at telling a story, Master Kili?"

"What kind of story?"

"Whichever means the most to you." Instantly stories of his home and family sprang forth, but he pushed them aside. She may have made great strides—whether knowingly or not—to overcome her past blunders, but that did not mean he felt entirely at ease. Seeing her love of her family helped the young prince in thinking she must have some sense of values; however, he had yet to see any semblance of beliefs as he knew them: honour, courage, loyalty. Could she not see past her home's hearth? He decided to put it to a test, and thought of one of his favourite dwarf sagas.

"I have one in mind, but it is quite long." They had reached the fringes of the forest, and Rivendell rested before them. "Could I tell the story tonight over another of Bombur's late-night feeds?" She agreed—though not without sending him a look from under a suspicious, lifted eyebrow—and they silently walked along the ledge and back into the shining peace of the city.


End file.
